


My, What Sharp Teeth You Have

by melancholymango



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, But The Moon Made Keith Horny, First Time, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, JK there is hella consent in this fic, Knotting, M/M, Monsterfucking, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Rutting, Slow Burn, The Moon Made them Do it, Werewolf Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: “You’re right, wolves aren’t stupid.” His mother says then, her tone of voice very, very grave. “They’re very, very smart and that’s what makes them dangerous. You think they don’t know when the best time to strike is? You think they don’t lie in wait for a naive, unsuspecting, foolhardy boy to go traipsing through the woods oblivious to the danger he’s in? The moment you let your guard down they’ll know.”“You worry too much.” Lance tells her, but his will to fight is quickly draining. “I’ll follow the path. Straight to abuelita’s and straight back, as quickly as I can, just like you said. I won’t travel after the sun sets, and I’ll be home tomorrow in time for dinner. I won’t talk to anyone or anything I encounter on the way, no matter what, no exceptions. I promise.”--Or, after a lifetime of warnings not to step foot off the dirt path that weaves through the woods behind their house... Lance finally decides it's time to break the rules. What are the chances he'll run into a wolf anyway?
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 947





	My, What Sharp Teeth You Have

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a request from Rory, @bbunlance on twitter! The idea for the story was all her, but I may have gotten carried away and added an ungodly amount of personal flair because let's be honest, werewolf stories are where my true passion lies. This is the shit I lose my mind for, I literally could not stop writing and adding scenes to this. I had a ton of fun with it and hopefully you all enjoy it too!!
> 
> And this fic doesn't really have any dubcon in the traditional sense, they both consent and have conversations about consent at multiple points throughout the story. BUT I feel like I should give a quick warning just in case someone is very sensitive to it: Keith is under the influence of the moon and Hella horny, so it could be argued that his judgment is swayed. And there are times when Lance is momentarily overwhelmed with the rough treatment, but there's no point where he seriously asks Keith to stop or even wants him to, because he's enjoying himself the whole. 
> 
> TLdR: from the author's perspective, both boys definitely want it and are fully consenting. Just be mindful for your own sake if it's something you're sensitive about! I didn't tag it because I don't personally feel this story warrants a dubcon tag, but this is just to be safe.

It doesn’t take Lance particularly long to find his mother when he goes in search of her. She doesn’t go as far as she used to, limited by her aching joints that bother her more and more with age. It’s part of why Lance still lives at home at all, to watch out for her, to do the heavy lifting and bring back groceries from the village each week. It’s not that he particularly minds the set-up though, he’s more than happy to stay at home and keep immersed in his family life.

As a matter of fact, that very need for immersion is part of why he’s coming to find his mother. As much as he loves her, and he does, occasionally he does like to see his other family members that don’t come visit on a regular basis. In particular, he loves to go and visit his abuelita. He’d always been close with her, had always felt a strange kinship with the little old woman who lived alone in her cabin and believed in  _ magic _ .

Technically speaking, she doesn’t live far from here, a couple hour’s journey by foot, and Lance has walked the same trail so many times that he knows it like it’s simply an extension of his backyard. The only problem is that the only way to get there… is to go straight through the dense, unpopulated woods that surrounded the village.

It doesn’t bother Lance, it never has. From the time he could walk, he was trying to run off into the woods on his own, fearless of what might be lurking in the trees. There hasn’t been a single moment in his entire life that he’s felt unsafe in the forest. If anything, that’s where he feels safest.

It’s just, well, his mother doesn’t  _ understand  _ that.

He finds her kneeling in the garden, hands buried in the dirt, a straw hat covering the better part of her face from sight. She doesn’t look up immediately when he approaches, too concentrated on her work, but he knows that she’s aware of his presence nonetheless. He clears his throat loudly after a moment and she eventually looks up, peering up at him from below the brim of her hat.

“I don’t imagine you’ve come out here to volunteer your  _ help _ , have you?”

“I’m headed out.” Lance informs her, crouching down beside her to pull her into a hug. She goes with a giggle, resting her head on his shoulder with a long sigh. He does feel a bit bad, contrary to what she believes. He knows how much she worries about him, even still. He wishes he could alleviate her anxiety somehow, but short of staying home forever and never seeing his abuelita again, there doesn’t seem to be any other option. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay.” She agrees reluctantly, pulling back to cup his face between her hands and rake her eyes over his appearance, like he’s going away for months rather than a day. He quirks an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes, playfully shoving him away. He stumbles back onto his feet, snatching his basket up from the grass as he goes. “You’ll go straight there and come straight back, won’t you? Stick to the path, no detours, no talking to strangers?”

“Seriously?” Lance sighs. “If I was planning on breaking the rules, I’d have done it a long time ago.” 

“I just worry about you out there alone, with who knows what lurking in the shadows.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mama, I’m _ twenty years old _ .”

“Do you think the _ wolves  _ care how old you are?” She counters, her tone harsh. She moves to get to her feet and Lance quickly reaches out to grip her elbow, steading her and helping her up. She looks at him afterward, places her hand gently over his, her smile wide and apologetic. “Lance, I know you’re mature, but you’re still the youngest, you’re still my baby. Promise me? For peace of mind?”

And the thing is, it’d take nothing to just give in and promise, especially because he has no intention of breaking any of her rules in the first place. It’s the principle of it though, that she still doesn’t trust him enough to just believe that he’ll stick to the path and steer clear of strangers. He’s an adult, he’s not some naive kid in need of supervision, he can handle himself just fine.

… Which is why he chooses to be difficult rather than just letting it go.

“How many times do I have to tell you? There are no wolves in these woods.” Lance insists for the hundredth time, running a hand through his hair and pushing his hood back from his face, letting it fall down his back instead. His mother looks distinctly unimpressed. “Don’t you think I would’ve seen one by now? Or that someone would have encountered one, at least? I’ve never heard of a person being attacked by a wolf, ever, in my entire life.”

“No, because everyone has the common sense not to stray from the path these days!” 

“Do you think the wolves care about the path?! If they were really intent on eating me then I’m sure they’d roam right out onto it! Hell, maybe they’d even wear a hood over their ears and pretend to be abuelita to trick me into becoming a quick snack. Wolves aren’t stupid, they don’t make their homes near people because  _ people kill them _ , not the other way around.” Lance deadpans, staring her in the eye in a silent challenge. “Maybe the warnings of wolves made sense in your time, but they’re dying out, they’re all but extinct. I’m just as likely to run into a dragon.”

His mother stares at him for a long time, completely silent, her face mostly neutral but radiating disappointment on all fronts. A part of him feels immediately tempted to take back everything he’s said, but he ignores that, biting down on his tongue and standing his ground. Nothing he said was a lie anyway, perhaps an exaggeration with the dragon comment given they’re genuinely extinct, but still. Not a lie. The wolves moved up into the mountains to avoid human civilization, why the hell would they come back just to eat them? They have their pick of prey in the woods.

“You’re right, wolves aren’t stupid.” His mother says then, her tone of voice very, very grave. “They’re very, very smart and that’s what makes them dangerous. You think they don’t know when the best time to strike is? You think they don’t lie in wait for a naive, unsuspecting, foolhardy boy to go traipsing through the woods oblivious to the danger he’s in? The moment you let your guard down they’ll know.”

“You worry too much.” Lance tells her, but his will to fight is quickly draining. He’s eager to leave, not to mention the sooner he does the safer he’ll be, with more time to make it there before dark. So, like he always does in the end, he gives in and tells her what she wants to hear. “I’ll follow the path. Straight to abuelita’s and straight back, as quickly as I can, just like you said. I won’t travel after the sun sets, and I’ll be home tomorrow in time for dinner. I won’t talk to anyone or anything I encounter on the way, no matter what, no exceptions. I promise.”

“Thank-you. Stay safe, alright? I love you.” His mother sighs immediately like he’s brought her a great deal of relief, and though he’s glad she’s feeling better, he can’t help but take it in a backhanded sort-of way. He’s petulant, annoyed that she continues to dismiss him. If he’s not old enough to make the trip in good confidence now, will he ever be? He’s not sure. He almost doesn’t want to know.

But he knows she means well, that she’s only coming from a place of worry. 

“I love you too.” Lance repeats, completely genuine. No matter how her smothering annoys him, he still cares deeply for her, and is closer with her than anyone else on this planet. He just wishes that she would trust him more, have some faith that he’s able to look out for himself.

After that, he pushes his hood back up around his head and turns on his heel, his basket swinging back and forth in his grip as he heads for the dirt path weaving between the trees. He’s almost out of sight when his mother’s voice rings out through the air yet again and he has to worry if she’s about to lecture him again.

“And make sure to remind my mother whose apple tart recipe that is!” 

“Trust me, you drilled that fact into her head  _ long _ before I was the one making them!”

\--

The forest is as quiet and tranquil as always when Lance starts out on his journey, walking at a brisk pace along the well-traveled dirt. It’s strange, how both nothing and everything seem to change in the span of time that Lance stays away from the woods. The trees are the same, the path is the same, the plants are all the same. But the colors are different, the noises, even the smells that he notices from fresh summer blooms. It’s familiar enough to be comfortable, but different enough to stay constantly interesting. No two walks are ever exactly alike.

This is his favorite time of year, when the entire forest is alight with life, greenery blanketing Lance in every direction. It feels safe, warm, more familiar than any of the other seasons. It’s all he can do to keep walking and not stop to observe every time his eyes land on a peculiar flower, a chattering chipmunk, or the soft sound of running water just off the path.

Despite the temptation, he grits his teeth and keeps his gaze focused determinedly on the path ahead, his hand’s grip on the basket growing white-knuckled and tense. He’s painstakingly aware of just how little he’s actually seen of the forest he loves so much and though most days he can ignore the draw of adventure, it’s harder when he still feels a spitefulness in his chest at his mother’s lack of trust.

She clearly expects him to break the rules anyway, what would it matter if he did? If he just took a few simple steps off the path, and then went straight back, just to prove a point to himself? She would never have to know, but he would. He would know that the path isn’t the promise of safety she makes it out to be. It’s not like the rest of the forest will swallow him whole and he’ll never return.

His steps slow just the slightest bit, growing sluggish as he scuffs the toes of his boots through the dirt of the path. He finds his gaze drifting longingly to the side, his bottom lip drawn back between his teeth in deep thought. His grip on his basket slackens. 

It’s _ not  _ dangerous, no matter what his mother says. It’s just a forest. Home to all types of animals, yes, but very few that’d even attempt to attack something of his size. There’s still lots of light streaming in from overhead, the underbrush and trees are undoubtedly thick through this stretch but not so thick that he’d lose direction, and moreover he’s not some helpless damsel in distress! If it came down to it, he’s sure he could fight off most attackers. Probably.

His steps stop completely, until he’s left standing in the middle of the path, staring between the trees in hopes of catching a glimpse at what lies beyond their branches. He thinks he might see a meadow of wildflowers, complete with a fallen tree covered in moss and mushrooms, and oh, what he’d give to sit there and simply breathe in the fresh forest air. Not for long, only a few minutes at most.

His mother would never know. _ Never _ . How could she? There’s no one here to see him, no one here to watch it happen. It’s just him, alone in the forest like always. So what’s stopping him?

Lance swallows harshly and takes a step toward the trees, placing his free hand against the trunk of one, feeling brittle bark beneath his palm and reveling in it. Slowly, he pushes aside the bushes with his foot and steps through them, until his boot is touching down on soft grass rather than worn dirt. He’s barely a step off the path yet, one of his feet is still pressed to the familiar dirt, and yet it feels so monumental.

Ignoring the hammering of his heart, Lance takes another step and leaves the path completely, walking deeper into the sea of trees. Immediately, a gasp is pulled from his chest, as he looks around at the untouched wilderness. Birds flutter overhead to put space between themselves and the intruder to their space, a rabbit scurries hurriedly across the tiny meadow and back into a hole beneath a mangled tree root, and Lance watches excitedly as fish jump in the nearby pond.

He walks toward the pond with a single-minded focus, intrigued by the quiet croaking of frogs, and amused by the soft moss compressing beneath the soles of his boots. He feels heady with it all, all the new sights and smells, and already he’s wishing he could tell his mother about everything he’s seen.

He’s just about reached the pond, is stepping over the fallen log to reach it, when his boot lands on something that’s decidedly not soft moss. He stumbles the rest of the way over the log, rolls his ankle in the process, but somehow manages to spin around as he falls to look at the offending object that caused him to trip. And, against all odds, the object in question looks like a fucking _ person _ .

Lance falls backward and lands on his ass in the moss with a solid thud, his basket settling in his lap and thankfully not spilling any of its contents. He hugs it close, eyes wide as saucers and still glued to the slumped body in front of him. 

It’s a man. An exceptionally hairy, half-dressed man, but certainly a man. The familiar shape and slope of muscle is unmistakable, and the skin that isn’t covered in hair is pale and soft-looking. Unfortunately, his face is still pressed to the moss, tucked out of sight between that and the mop of shaggy black hair atop his head. 

“I’m sorry!” Lance shouts, immediately regretting it when the man winces visibly at the shrill lilt of his voice, curling in on himself further. Lance quickly backtracks, lowering his voice to something quieter and more calm. “I really am so, so sorry. I didn’t see you there, uh, napping in the woods. I wasn’t expecting to run into anybody out here, you see? Not many people… stray from the path.” 

The more Lance talks his way through it, the more he’s starting to question why and how he’s having this exchange in the first place. What kind of mad man takes a nap in the forest?! Sure, Lance is of the mindset that it’s hardly a dangerous place, but when you’re left defenseless and unconscious,  _ any place  _ can be a dangerous place. This man is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, or a mix of both.

Or, as the seconds tick by without reaction, perhaps he’s just physically incapable of not lying unconscious and half-dressed in the middle of the woods. His shirt is gone, his pants are torn and ragged, he seems sluggish or at the very least hesitant to show his face... maybe he’d been attacked. 

“Sir? Are you alright?” Lance asks, setting his basket aside and shifting onto his hands and knees, carefulling crawling closer to the body. Whoever it is, they’re a big man, nearly double the size of Lance despite his exceptionally tall and lanky form. This guy is a solid wall of muscle, built like a soldier, and when Lance gets close enough he can even make out scars littered beneath the hair covering his arms and back. Lance swallows hard, nerves amounting. “Do you need help? Is there anything I can do?”

He’s close enough now that he could reach out and place a hand on the man’s flank, where it’s heaving, drawing deep and trembling breaths. He’s either panicked or injured for his breathing to be that labored and Lance can’t help but fear for the worst when most of his body is still pressed into the grass. Perhaps he’d been stabbed by a traveling bandit and left for dead, or gutted by one of the wolves his mother has always warned against, or maybe one of these pretty flowers surrounding them is actually poisonous and they’ve both inhaled enough pollen to kill a man already. Oh no, maybe his Mama was right all this time, maybe he’d made a terrible mistake venturing into the forest.

Still, he has to try and help the poor man, he won’t leave him here to suffer.

Steeling his nerves, Lance places his hand on the man’s shoulder and gently pushes, coaxing him to roll over. Only, the man doesn’t cooperate, he actively fights against it, curling in on himself further to appear impossibly small. Lance applies more pressure, determined to help, and earns a growl in response. A low, vibrating, threatening sort-of noise that seems to resonate from deep in the man’s chest. Lance balks, snatching his hand back quickly.

“What the hell?!” Lance manages to squeak out, scrambling backward and fumbling for his basket in a hurry, ready to run. Once he’s a good few feet away, the man in front of him stirs, uncurling from the tight-knit ball he’d been bunched up in and then lifting himself up with his arms. Slowly, he climbs to his feet, and Lance stays frozen in place. “What’s wrong with you?!”

Once he’s on his feet, the stranger turns to look at him. And though Lance’s initial assumption had been right, he is staring at a man, it’s a man unlike any other he’s ever seen. The face is the same, the sharp jawline and prominent nose, the bushy eyebrows and pink lips. It’s all human, until Lance’s gaze finds the man’s and suddenly the illusion falls apart. The man’s eyes aren’t any normal shade for a human. They’re a deep and rich yellow color, with pupils tiny circles in the middle of all the molten gold. There’s something distinctly animal-like about them, as they flicker up and down, sizing Lance up as a threat.

If that were the only thing off about the man, Lance might have been able to look past it, to assume that it’s just his mind playing tricks on him and freaking him out because of how paranoid his mother has always been about the forest. Only, there’s more… so much more.

There are two triangular ears perched atop the man’s head, perky and intrigued, angled toward Lance like a dog’s when they’ve heard an interesting noise. And then suddenly they’re flattened back against his head instead, and if Lance is still going with the dog comparison, he’s pretty sure this body language isn’t welcoming. They’re as inky black as the hair they’re surrounded by, so it’s no wonder Lance didn’t really notice them until now.

There are other things too, things that have Lance’s mind whirring to a conclusion. Like the way the man’s upper lip pulls back in another threatening snarl, revealing sharp fangs in place of where his teeth should be. Or how there are sharp talons at the ends of each of his fingers rather than blunt nails. Or perhaps the black tail that slips free from the waistband of his pants to stand straight up, puffed up and unmoving.

For a long, long while they remain like that. At a standstill. Neither one daring to move a muscle.

In the end, Lance is the first to react. He hurriedly grabs his basket and hurls it at the creature, then uses the momentary distraction to take off running toward the path. He screeches and screams all the while, anything but dignified, and curses whenever his cloak threatens to catch on the stray branches and hold him back. He doesn’t hear the thundering footsteps of the beast pursuing him, but he knows it must be, that there’s no reasonable excuse for it not to be.

He somehow manages to find what he was looking for. He continues running even then, running toward his abuelita’s, running until his lungs and legs ache too much continue, and then even past that. 

By the time he finally stops, he’s sure that he’s outrun the threat.

He doubles over and grips his knees, gasping for air, swiping at the tears streaking his face. The adrenaline is still pumping through him, his heart still racing, and every muscle in his body is still screaming at him to keep running. But he knows he can’t, not for any distance anyway, and he’s only halfway to his destination yet. He should conserve his energy while he can, lest he run into another one of… whatever  _ that _ was.

It was certainly a man... in the same way that it  _ wasn’t _ .

Lance’s mother had spent her entire life warning him of the wolves in the forest but she’d never once warned him that they wouldn’t always appear to him as four-legged canines, that there was some sort-of magical element to the threat. If he’d only known that, he might have… well, no, truth be told he wouldn’t have believed her then either. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what he just experienced.

As he grows nearer and nearer to his abuelita’s house, he starts to debate what he’s going to tell her. He can’t rightly say that he left the path, he’d never live it down, he’d never be allowed to come visit again, but she’d never believe that he’d encountered anything on the path either. Perhaps it’d be best not to tell her… only, she’s going to question why he didn’t bring anything with him this time. He always brings fresh baked goods to her, every single time he visits. She’ll certainly question it and he won’t have any excuses to give.

He’s not sure what to do at this point, but turning around certainly isn’t an option with what might be waiting on him back there. So he continues ahead, anxiety growing the closer he gets, still no excuse for why he’s showing up empty-handed. It’s not that she’s a particularly expectant woman, she won’t care, but she’ll certainly question it. He knows she will.

Lance is nearly there a good hour later, the sun just barely beginning to set overhead, the trees all growing unmistakably familiar the closer he gets. The gnawing dread is still settled in the pit of his stomach and he’s absolutely certain at this point that he’s just going to have to come clean. He’s not a good liar at the best of times, but how is he meant to keep a secret this huge? 

When he turns onto the final stretch before he reaches his abuelita’s front door, Lance is immediately paralyzed in the middle of the dirt path. He doesn’t move a muscle, just stays uncomfortably still as he gapes at the familiar basket sitting in the middle of the road ahead of him. Not damaged in the slightest.

Taking a careful look through the trees around him, Lance cautiously approaches the basket and eventually lifts it into his arms. When he peers inside, he’s pleasantly surprised to find all of his baked goods still tucked away inside, like he’d never lost them in the first place. He can’t believe his luck.

… But it isn’t luck at all, _ is it _ ? There’s no denying that someone would have had to carry it here, and the only someone who might possibly know where Lance had left it behind was the very someone he’d been throwing it at as a weapon. Did the  _ wolf  _ do this? Deliver it to him? 

It doesn’t really make sense to him. To think that not only had he failed to outrun the creature, but when it caught up to him it hadn’t attacked? Despite the fact that he’d thrown the first punch, or rather the first basket? That didn’t sound like the wolves his mother had always warned him about. Those things were supposed to be ruthless killers, advancing on you when you least expected, quick to draw blood and sink their teeth into their prey.

Why the hell would a creature like that take the time to bring Lance’s basket back, though? Unless it was a distraction, a trap… Lance entertains the idea, looks around the forest for any sign of life and finds nothing. A part of him worries for his abuelita though, so he hurries on his way, hoping she hasn’t been targeted. Surely even a beast wouldn’t be so heartless and cruel as to take out their anger with him on an innocent old woman, right?!

Lance reaches her house a few short minutes later, breathless and panting after his rushed jog down the final stretch of the path. He reaches up to pull his good back from his face and marches right up to the door, prepared to knock, only to have it wrenched open in front of him. His abuelita stares back at him, her smile welcoming and warm as always, completely oblivious to his state of panic. 

She pulls him into a hug, pressing an obnoxious kiss to his cheek.

“You’re late! I was starting to worry!”

“Sorry, sorry. I lost track of time and was late leaving.” Lance says hurriedly, eager to change the topic before she catches on to the tension in his stature. He’s relaxing now anyway, seeing that she’s safe and sound in front of him. He wrenches his basket up between them, an effective topic change, as her eyes go wide and zero in on it. “I brought these for you.”

“You’re so sweet.” She opens it up and peeks inside, sifting through the various baked goods, a smile on her face that calms Lance’s beating heart… for all of a few seconds, before her grin suddenly fades away, eyebrows furrowing together. Lance feels his breath catch, wondering if the wolf left behind something he somehow missed. What could she possibly be seeing that would cause such a visceral, sudden reaction as th-

“What? No apple tarts this time?” She asks, looking up at him in confusion. They’re her favorite. A family favorite, really. Everything else Lance throws into the basket is random, whatever recipe catches his whimsy, whatever extra goods they have around the house. The apple tarts have always been the staple of this gift-giving tradition. There’s no reasonable reason for them not to be there.

Well, unless they fell out of the basket when Lance threw it.

Or… if someone ate them before returning the basket.

Lance blanks for a few seconds and then hurriedly comes up with the best excuse he can.

“Shoot. I made them and everything, but I forgot them on the table at home. I’m sorry.” He lies through his teeth, smiling at her wide and convincing. She quickly hides her frown, sympathy coloring her eyes instead, nothing but understanding to be found in her expression. 

“Lance, I’m messing with you. You think I care what you bring? The most important thing is yourself, as long as you’re here, I don’t care what else you have.” She reaches out and grabs his wrist, squeezing it lightly. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

As she leads him into the house, he finds himself turning to look over his shoulder and peer back at the forest. Obviously he doesn’t find a pair of golden eyes staring back at him, instead he’s met with only thick leaves and shadows, but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched even still. It somehow doesn’t feel as suffocating now, as he looks down at the basket clutched in his hand.

… So the wolf has an affinity for apple tarts. Good to know.

\-- 

When it eventually comes time to go home, Lance can’t help but feel apprehensive about going back into the forest he’s always loved so much. Only, he has no reasonable excuse not to, not unless he comes clean with the truth to his abuelita and then inevitably his mother… so he does what any stubborn idiot would do and decides to take his chances with the unnamed threat lurking in the shadows.

He’s incredibly paranoid for two long hours, jumping at every noise, unsettled by the variety of life in the atmosphere rather than calmed by it. He’s painstakingly aware of how fast the wolf must be, to outrun him and leave the basket so far ahead of him when he was going as fast as he possibly could. If the wolf truly wanted to harm him, he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance.

But then, if the wolf wanted to harm him, why return the basket at all?

Lance is left with more questions than answers and the fact that he makes it back home in one piece only adds another confusing piece to the puzzle. Something isn’t adding up. Someone has to be wrong here, it’s either his mother doesn’t know nearly as much as she let on that she did all this time, or this wolf in particular is different. How? Lance can’t be sure. That doesn’t stop him from spending hours pondering it over the next week, though.

And when it comes time to go to his abuelita’s again, Lance makes sure to bake a dozen extra apple tarts.

\--

The week following when Lance sets out into the forest with his dozen extra apple tarts in tow, he isn’t entirely sure what to expect. It’s very possible he simply won’t run into the wolf again, that it’ll make itself scarce like it always has before and give him a wide berth. He’s not sure if the idea of that disappoints or relieves him more. He’d be safe, sure, but none of his questions would ever have real answers that way. Isn’t the risk almost  _ worth it _ when in pursuit of knowledge?

He travels along the path for the first hour without interruption, but can’t shake the generally unsettled feeling that follows him like a dark cloud. He knows he’s probably being paranoid, but he feels like something is  _ watching him _ . He doesn’t hear anything moving, doesn’t see anything, but he certainly feels it… the skin-crawling, hair-raising sensation of being pursued by something.

In the end, it becomes more than an unsettled tingle and ventures into downright panic territory. Like at any point this creature could jump out of the bushes and pounce on him, could take him down in one foul swoop with little effort. Lance can’t take it anymore.

He spins around in the spot suddenly, eyes darting across the underbrush for any sign of movement and coming up short. Still, he holds his ground, and clutches the handle of his basket tighter.

“I know you’re there.” Lance is almost a little impressed by the confidence in his voice, considering how very frightened he’s starting to feel inside. His words ring out in the quiet of the forest and then even the birds chirping and wind blowing through the leaves seems to grow silent, making it feel like an echo around him. Still, no response comes. 

Alright, next step of the plan, then.

“I brought something for you. As thanks for returning my basket.” With that, Lance kneels in the dirt despite the vulnerable position it puts him in. He hurriedly digs into his basket and pulls out the extra apple tarts, neatly wrapped in a fine linen cloth, with a plate. He places them right there in the middle of the path and inhales deeply, bouncing back to his feet and taking his basket with him. “I’m going to leave them here for you. Help yourself. They’re yours for the taking.”

It was unrealistic to think the wolf would immediately want to see him again after their last interaction, and probably even more unrealistic to think that the beast is capable of answering any of his questions he has. It’s likely that it doesn’t understand a word of what he’s said.

He gives himself a minute to dwell at the site and memorize where he’d left the plate, and then spins on his heel to continue on his way. Only, he doesn’t make it half a step before freezing again, breath catching in his throat when his eyes land on the figure standing a good ten feet ahead of him on the path. Tall, dark, and looming in a way that should be little more than nightmare fuel if Lance was any less of a curious person. He swallows hard.

“H-Hello! It’s just me again. We met the other day.” Lance doesn’t sound nearly as confident and calm this time around, now his voice is high and reedy, and his breaths between words border on becoming hyperventilated. The wolf doesn’t move, but it’s ears perk up like it’s paying attention, so Lance dares to let himself hope. “Do you... understand me? Can you speak? English? Spanish?”

He doesn’t get a response.

He does, however, get the nightmarish experience of watching the creature start to advance on him. It doesn’t move fast, though Lance is sure it’s capable. It takes slow and calculated steps, visibly wary as its gaze never leaves Lance for a second, it’s upper lip pulled back to show off those intimidatingly sharp teeth Lance remembers so vividly from the other day.

The space between them shrinks and closes in, until there’s only a foot between them and they could easily reach out and touch. Lance prepares for a swipe to come at him of those sharp claws, but it never happens. The seconds tick by uneventfully until finally the wolf sidesteps around him entirely, kneeling beside the plate full of apple tarts and helping itself.

It eats them so fast it should be off-putting. Twelve whole tarts in little to no time at all. Practically swallowing them whole, not even bothering to chew, crumbs spilling down the front of its bare chest and into the dirt of the path. Lance finds himself glancing down at his basket contemplatively as the plate grows closer and closer to empty. He’d only brought a dozen for the wolf, the others were meant to be for his abuelita this time… but, well, if this is his only means of bridging the gap between them.

“There’s more where that came from.” Lance says, pulling back the flap of the basket. The wolf’s eyes zero in on the movement and track it with deadly focus. “I want to ask you some questions. Starting with a repeat of a previous question; can you understand what I’m saying? Yes or no?”

“I know how to speak, for fuck’s sake.” The wolf spits, his tone so seething that Lance takes a stumbling step backward just to put space between them, shocked by the suddenness and severeness of the outburst when he hadn’t been expecting it. The wolf stifles then, reaching up to brush crumbs of pastry from the scruff on his chin. “Let me ask  _ you  _ a question:  _ why _ ? Why are you so curious to know about me? What could you possibly gain with this information? Are you planning on using it against me?”

“What? No!” Lance shouts, then quickly quiets himself down in hopes of not coming across as quite so abrasive. He doesn’t want to piss off the intimidating wolf guy, not when he already seems so grouchy and hard to impress. “I’m just curious. I’ve never met... someone like you.” 

Lance isn’t entirely sure that he’s phrased that well, but the wolf doesn’t look quite so actively annoyed, so he moves closer again and slides his basket across the path between them. The wolf doesn’t hesitate to wrench it open and dig in, finding the remainder of the apple tarts and starting his way through them as well. It’s a little concerning, the amount of food this guy can put back. He’s big, the size of a large man, double Lance’s size with his lanky and lithe build, but two dozen apple tarts? In one sitting like this?

“What are these things?” The wolf asks suddenly, as he’s biting into the last of the offered pastries. It’s asked so flippantly that it could almost be dismissed as general indifference, but Lance gets the feeling that this guy wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t care immensely. He also probably wouldn’t be eating his way through Lance’s entire supply if he didn’t like them a great deal.

“Apple tarts. They’re a family recipe. I make them myself.” Lance says proudly. 

“Hm.” The wolf hums curiously, sifting through the basket as if to inspect the rest of the content. 

Lance doesn’t even attempt to stop him, not when it brings him a sense of solace watching the wolf stuff himself full of sweets. Surely he doesn’t have room for a snack of human meat now, right? Still, Lance figures he’d better ask, just to be sure that he isn’t the main course. He tries to be discreet. 

“All of these sweets are probably pretty different from your usual diet, huh?”

“I don’t eat people.” The wolf deadpans without even looking up from the basket, and Lance promptly chokes on his own saliva in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be called out, especially not so bluntly.

“I wasn’t implying that you do!” Lance insists shrilly, which only drives home the fact that he really was implying as much, or at the very least thinking it. The wolf looks up at him, eyes deep pools of amber at this close proximity, and Lance feels tangible regret in his chest. What an asshole he is, assuming the worst about this guy just because of the way he looks. “Fuck. This isn’t going as smoothly as I planned.”

“No kidding.”

“Look, it’s nothing personal.” Lance launches into an explanation, plopping down into the dirt and deciding that staying perched on his feet only makes it harder to believe he’s trusting of this man. He doesn’t want to look like he’s seconds from bolting, that’s no way to start any kind of relationship. “I’ve been warned about wolves attacking people my entire life, so I can’t help but wonder where the truth is in that. But, simply put, if you wanted to hurt me I’m sure you would’ve done it last week when you had the chance to. I know you’re capable of it. I mean, look at you.”

“The teeth and the claws, you mean?” The wolf asks, glancing down at himself and momentarily forgetting the food he’d been pursuing. Lance nods his head uncertainly, hoping that he isn’t agreeing to the wrong thing somehow, even if it is the truth. “Perhaps. I may have the body of a predator, but the humans are just as capable of killing and nothing about them advertises the fact. There’s no way of determining which humans are killers and which ones aren’t. The guns, the swords, the explosives... they kill faster than even teeth and claws could.” 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Lance swallows harshly. “Sorry.”

For some reason, the wolf only seems amused by his genuine apology. It’s the first expression of its kind that Lance has seen on its features and it’s a bizarre sight to behold, those lips curling up into a toothy grin, rows of fangs on display rather than the blunt teeth Lance is used to seeing.

“What are you apologizing for? There’s no guilt in looking out for yourself. For all you knew, I could have been the killing kind, you shouldn’t trust me anymore than I trust you. There are wolves that eat people, you know, I just happen to not be one of them.” The wolf explains passively. “I don’t. My pack doesn’t. It’s not a worthwhile endeavor when there are so many easier and better-tasting options for prey. I have no interest in making you a meal, if that’s what you’re so worried about. You can calm down.”

“Should I believe you?”

“That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?” The wolf’s grin sharpens then, growing wider, more smug, eyes alight with something unsettlingly playful. Lance isn’t sure what to make of it, but he doesn’t back away, or back down. He holds his ground.

“You mentioned your pack.” Lance says then, hoping he isn’t striking too close to home. The wolf visibly stiffens, his smile disappearing in an instant. He just nods his head, jaw clenched in a sharp line. Lance is careful about how he navigates his next questions. “There’s more of you? More wolves that live here, that look like you, who know how to talk?”

“Yes.” The wolf is practically growling his answers now, but Lance is too curious to take a hint and quit while he’s ahead. How is it that he lived among these creatures for so many years and never saw one until now? It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that’s easy to miss, whether they’re people-eating or not, surely they would have run into each other at some point?

“How many?”

“Three. In my pack.” The wolf admits, though he doesn’t seem happy to be talking about them yet. It makes sense though, why would he be eager to share the personal information of his loved ones with a stranger he still isn’t sure whether to view a friend or foe? “I don’t know how many live in the woods as a whole, but near to the path there’s only three. No one ventures into our territory, we steer clear of theirs. We’re a small pack so we go undetected by the humans, it’s the only reason we’ve managed to survive living so close to civilization.”

“How long have you lived here?” Lance asks then, deciding to press his luck further.

“My whole life.”

“Is this the first time you’ve followed me?” Lance asks quietly, already trying to piece it together, to make sense of the situation. He gets an unexpected tidbit of information in the way the wolf flinches slightly at the question, like it’d slapped him upside the head. Then, slowly, a look of vague guilt fades across his features and Lance isn’t left wondering at all anymore.  _ Huh _ . 

“It’s been… a while.”

“I guess I’ll accept that as an answer. But why? If you didn’t plan on eating me, what was the point?”

“Maybe I was curious too.” The wolf admits in a quiet exhale, plainly avoiding eye contact as the admission passes his lips. Instead, he stares down at his hands, at the flex of his fingers and curve of his claws. There’s a debate playing out behind his eyes, like he isn’t sure yet where the line is of what he can comfortably share and what he should keep to himself. “I’ve met humans, but never any like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance laughs, but he keeps his tone light and airy. It didn’t really sound like an insult, not technically, despite the frustration evident in the wolf’s voice. It sounds more exhausted, like he’s loath to admit to just how much he  _ doesn’t _ hate Lance’s apparent differentness.

The wolf sighs then, golden eyes finally flickering up and locking with Lance’s deep blue ones.

“Quiet. Kind. Gentle.” The wolf lists flatly, void of emotion. Then, his eyebrows furrow together, face twisting up in distaste like he’s physically pained by what he’s about to say next, but unable to stop himself from it all the same. “And you _ smell _ different.  _ Better _ . Less abrasive. All the other men smell of sweat and dirt, but the smell of sweetness always follows you everywhere.”

“Oh. That’d be the baked goods.” Lance laughs, feeling oddly flattered all the same. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact he’s pretty sure he might see a pink tint of blush to the wolf’s cheeks, beneath the stubble there. Has the wolf been following him all this time because it’s been… admiring him? In its own strange way?

Lance isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I can bring more for you. Next time.” Lance offers, deciding that no matter what it’s better to have a friend in the wolf than an enemy. It’s not like baking a few more batches of apple tarts a week is going to inconvenience him terribly, and he still has so many questions he’d like to ask. The wolf doesn’t express any outward thankfulness whatsoever, but Lance knows it must be there beneath the surface. “Do you have a name? Something I can call you in the future other than ‘wolf’?”

For a moment, it seems like he’s going to pull an easy answer out of the wolf for the first time, but then something akin to panic flutters across those sharp features and the wolf is recoiling both mentally and physically. He shifts backward, further away from Lance, ears flattening back against his head.

“Wolf is fine.” 

“That’s not your name though, is it?” Lance laughs, deciding to ask just to be sure. The wolf doesn’t answer, though the amount of emotion that plays out across his generally inexpressive face really says it all. He seems torn, like he genuinely doesn’t know whether it’s worth whatever risk he’s put onto opening up about it. Lance gives him an easy out, deciding rather early on that he doesn’t like to see the wolf struggling with himself. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me yet. No rush, I know you don’t trust me yet, so we’ll take things at whatever pace you want. But, can I tell you mine?”

“Fine.”

“I’m Lance.” He introduces himself with a smile, extending a hand despite the way his mother’s voice is still echoing in the back of his mind, repeating warnings he’s heard a thousand times. The wolf studies his upturned palm, eyes keen with interest, before eventually reaching out and taking his hand in its own and shaking it. Lance’s grin widens and he exhales a breath he hadn’t been aware he was actually holding this whole time. “It’s nice to meet you. Officially.”

“You too.” The wolf mirrors the sentiment, eyes still glued to where their hands are locked. They’re not shaking anymore, just clasping on to each other, and the wolf is making no move to let go. Lance chuckles awkwardly, giving a gentle tug, and the wolf instantly drops his hand and launches to its feet like a startled cat. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to cut this short, but I should get going. My abuelita is waiting on me and she’ll start to worry if I’m not there by sundown. It was nice meeting you, maybe we’ll get to talk again sometime. I pass through here every week to go and visit her, always around the same time.”

“I know.” The wolf answers quickly, clearly without thinking. The sudden tension that envelops them is heavy enough to feel suffocating. Lance is left reeling with the confession, wondering what exactly  _ that  _ means. How long has this wolf been watching him from afar that it knows his very schedule? And why? 

“I-” Lance isn’t even sure what he’s about to ask, but he doesn’t get a chance.

He barely gets a single syllable out before the wolf standing before him is suddenly gone without a trace, suspiciously oversized and clawed footprints left behind in the dust. A movement so fast that all Lance actually sees is the blur of colors across his vision and then the dust settling afterward.

Huh. That’s one way to avoid an awkward conversation.

Hopefully that’s not the last Lance sees of the wolf, he still has  _ so many questions _ .

\--

When Lance finally sees the wolf again, it’s a handful of weeks later, and they’re deep into the middle of summer. The heat is unbearable, the air is muggy, and he’s already looking forward to autumn. He has his bright red cloak stuffed into his basket rather than wrapped around his shoulders, his arms and legs entirely on display in the cool shade of the forest as he makes his way down the path.

He hasn’t forgotten about the wolf. Not in the slightest. He still makes extra apple tarts every single week without fail, he always watches the trees for any sign of movement, and he spends hours thinking about how he could have done things differently. He wonders where exactly he went wrong, if it was something he said or did, if he could have done it differently and avoided this lapse in communication.

But today in particular, he isn’t looking for the wolf when he steps off the path. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind. Instead, he’s looking for a place to rest his feet and his weary mind. It’s a hot day, the hottest one so far this year, and he’s not sure he’ll make it if he tries to walk the entire journey without stopping to catch his breath and take a swig of water.

He veers off the path into the woods and finds a cave, surrounded by all manner of boulders. He props himself up on one of the huge rocks and sets to work guzzling down water. His hair is curling at the ends, clinging to his face with sweat, and he wants more than anything to find a river to dunk himself into.

“You know, there’s some truth in all of your mother’s warnings.” Lance chokes on a mouthful of water, doubling over to spit it all up across the dirt. Overhead, the wolf is lounging leisurely in a tree, staring down at him with feigned indifference. Lance narrows his eyes into a glare. “Straying from the path is a terrible idea when you don’t know your surroundings. It’ll only end in you getting lost, or hurt, or worse.”

“Are you stalking me?” Lance asks outright, without a hint of shame. He figures if this asshole is going to sneak up on him and try to give him an unsolicited lecture, then it’s fair game to call him out on it. “How do you know what my mother warns me about? How do you know my schedule so thoroughly? How do you always happen to be conveniently nearby when I step off the path? It can’t be coincidence.” 

“I’m not stalking you.” The wolf growls out, audibly annoyed with him. “I’m just making sure you don’t get your ass killed alone in the forest when no one else is here to help you. I’m being considerate.”

“Did I ask you to do that? If not, then it’s still considered stalking.” 

“Well then, I guess I’d better not warn you about the mother bear that lives inside this cave you’re relaxing in front of, who will absolutely come charging at you if you manage to wake her up. Wouldn’t want to come across as a  _ stalker _ by caring whether you live or die.” And though he’s still annoyed by the wolf’s flippant approach to sliding right back into his life, Lance can’t deny that the words instill a sense of urgency into his bones. He hops down and heads back toward the path as fast as he can without looking like he’s truly panicking. Thankfully, he makes it there in one piece.

But by then he’s left winded and even more exhausted, as he mops sweat from his brow and brings his water bottle to his lips again. He chugs it down, uncaring if he runs out before he reaches his abuelita’s place. He’ll make it eventually, whether he has a parched throat or not.

“Listen, if you know so much, why  _ don’t  _ you be my guide?” Lance asks eventually, looking at the wolf with an expectant stare. “If you’ve lived in the forest your whole life, you probably know of  _ all _ the coolest places off the path. Who better to be my guide?”

“You’re asking a wolf to lead you through the forest, where you’re completely oblivious and blind to your surroundings, with no one else around for miles? You’re very trusting.” 

“You’ve given me no reason not to be.” Lance replies with a shrug, mostly because it’s the truth. The wolf may be a smug and uncommunicative thing, but now that Lance knows more about it, it’s impossible to really see it as a threat. Especially when Lance has the key to its cooperation resting right in the middle of the basket he’s holding… 

He reaches in and pulls out an apple tart from the neat packaging and instantly the wolf’s attention zeroes in on solely him. Lance offers a small smile, holding it out in offering. “Besides, you said it yourself, why eat humans when you have easier and better-tasting prey?”

“Is this a bribe?” The wolf asks, even though the apple tart has already been snatched from Lance’s hand and is being brutalized between sharp fangs. Lance sighs.

“Come on, won’t doing things together be more fun than following me around all the time anyway?” He suggests warmly, leaning closer to the wolf and knocking their shoulders together. The look he receives in response tells him very plainly that that's not a common gesture among all cultures.

“You humans are exactly as conniving and devious as I was always told you were.” The wolf announces then, like he's been forced into submission. Lance quirks a single eyebrow at him, watching as he reaches his clawed little hand right back into the basket for seconds. If anyone is being conniving and devious for their own gain here, it sure as hell isn't Lance.

There's something else about that comment that stands out though, something that has the gears in Lance's mind whirring to slide a new piece of the puzzle into place. It makes sense.

“Your parents warned you about _ humans _ ?” Lance asks the wolf outright, figures that's the quickest means of getting an answer. He doesn't expect it to be a particularly controversial question, but as he watches his companion visibly wince the moment it's been asked… Lance realizes he's overstepped another one of those invisible boundaries. 

He can only hope the wolf won't take off running this time and not then up again for the better part of a month. Lance really is starting to enjoy having company on his walks through the woods. 

It takes a long while to get an answer. So long that Lance forgets what he'd asked in the first place, or at least makes a very determined effort to. Eventually though, the wolf does speak up on its own accord.

By then they're very near to reaching Lance's abuelita's cottage though, so they can't discuss anything at length. Maybe the wolf planned it that way to avoid a conversation about it.

“It wasn't my parents that warned me about the humans. It's not a commonplace warning. Most wolves don't fear humans. My pack does.” The wolf pauses mid-explanation, looking pained. Lance isn't sure how to encourage him, but in the end finds himself gripping a hairy, clawed hand in one of his own. Miraculously, he doesn't get slapped or shoved away for the attempt at comfort. “My parents never got the chance to teach me much, but only because humans killed them long before I was old enough to understand anything more than my name. That's why I've been warned. That's why my pack fears the humans. We've seen what they're capable of."

“Oh.” Lance says finally, and immediately curses himself for it, wishing he'd said something more eloquent on the matter. It's just there aren't words for the regret and sorrow he feels knowing even a fraction of what his people inflicted on the poor man next to him. Because despite the physical appearance that's all he is, a young man, not much older than Lance at all despite the hardships that have aged him so much more. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful. I can't even imagine what you went through."

“It was a long time ago.” The wolf says hurriedly, like he doesn't know what to do with the attention other than deflect it away. “I’m not asking for an apology, it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame the entire human race for the acts of a few, I should hope you wouldn’t do the same for all wolves.”

“Of course not.” Lance confirms, then just as quickly tries to take it back to comforting the wolf through his clearly tumultuous emotions. No matter how long ago it was, it clearly still hurts, the wound is still fresh after all this time. “Anyway, I’m not sorry because I had a part in it, I’m sorry it happened at all. You didn't deserve that. No one on this earth deserves to lose their parents like that."

“Sorry doesn’t bring them back, so you’re only wasting your breath, but thanks anyway.” The wolf growls out then, showing a flash of teeth that has Lance at a loss for words. Just as quickly though, the expression is gone and the topic is changed. “I know of a waterfall near here. Maybe tomorrow on our way back we can stop there."

And as excited as Lance is to hear the wolf has agreed to show him around the forest he loves so much, he can't shake the sympathy in his chest. He wishes there was more he could do to offer comfort after hearing such a heartbreaking fact, but as it is he just doesn't know the wolf nearly well enough to say the right thing. All he can do is hope they'll grow closer as they spend more and more time together.

\--

After that encounter, a routine forms between them. 

Every week, without fail, they meet up during Lance’s walks to and from his abuelita’s place.

From that day in the middle of summer forward, Lance rarely makes it more than twenty steps into the woods each week before the wolf is intercepting him, walking alongside him, informing him of what the plans are for the day, and helping himself to the goodies in Lance’s basket. They form a tentative friendship, though the trust is much slower building than the memories they make together.

Lance still doesn’t know the wolf’s name, though he’s come up with a plethora of fun jaunty nicknames to refer to his friend by. The wolf hates them all, naturally, given his prerogative is to never admit that he has a sense of humor and enjoys having fun. But as the weeks, and eventually _ months _ pass by, the wolf starts to bristle less and less when Lance calls him by the various dog-like pet names he’s conjured up. If anything, he starts to preen under the attention.

Autumn comes and brings with it cooler weather and bold colors as always, and Lance is all too happy to go back to wearing his favorite cloak around his shoulders again, draping the hood over his head as he sets out on his weekly journey. The leaves overhead dance in the wind, shades of orange and red and yellow, and Lance lets it keep him distracted as he waits for the wolf to show up on the path with him.

Only, today his friend is uncharacteristically late.

The better part of an hour passes and Lance finds himself walking noticeably slower than usual, lagging behind, not wanting to finish the trip without running into the wolf like usual. He’s starting to worry that something might have happened, that his friend could be in trouble, when suddenly he hears the leaves beside him rustle just a little bit louder than the wind would permit. The wolf may be quiet, eerily so, but Lance knows him well enough by now to know the sound of his light footfalls.

“There you are! I was starting to wonder if you were gonna show at all this week.” Lance laughs, spinning around just in time to watch the wolf step out of the trees. Lance is immediately made aware of the fact something is off though, the wolf looks apprehensive, hesitant and nervous just like it had back in the early days of their friendship. It’s been a long time since there was any room for fear between them. 

And because he has no idea what to make of that, Lance just keeps talking to try and lighten the mood before he’s even sure what it is. “What took you so long,  _ Fido _ ? Your apple tarts are probably getting cold by now and I know you don’t like them as much that way.”

And the wolf doesn’t answer, though his lips twitch with the urge to smile and his ears flick curiously, so he’s clearly paying attention. But instead, he just steps closer, comes to stand in front of Lance and meets his confused gaze with something venturing into fondness territory. Lance slowly shuts up, his jaw snapping back into place, and the wolf smiles at him fully then.

“Keith.” The wolf says then, and Lance’s breath catches in realization. “My name is Keith.”

Lance isn’t sure what to say to that either. He laughs breathlessly, blinks a few times to be sure he hasn’t imagined this, and even then he’s still struggling to find the words. He wrenches his basket up and starts digging through it, heart hammering away in his chest. “Did you want one of these now?”

“Did you hear what I said?” Lance had been dutifully staring down at the basket in his hands, but when the wolf, Keith, reaches out to place a hand over his… Lance finds himself looking up through his lashes and finding Keith’s golden eyes staring back at him. They’re warm and filled with understanding, and Lance finally finds himself choking out a response.

“Yeah, I did. I’m just not sure how to respond in a way that shows how much it means to me.” 

“I trust you.” Keith tells him then, taking the basket from his hands and setting it down in the middle of the path, so there’s nothing between them when Keith steps closer still. “I want you to know me. All of me. You’ve told me everything there is to know about you, it’s my turn now. If you’ll let me?”

After that, they venture off the path into the woods to find a place to sit down. They end up settling down beside a stream, sitting side by side in the grass, the basket propped between them. Keith’s tail is swishing idly back and forth behind him and he keeps glancing over at Lance, like he’s trying to gauge the moment and decide if it’s the right one to speak up. Lance is halfway through eating a cookie when Keith seems to collect himself enough to start in on the conversation.

“Keith Kogane. That’s my full name.”

“That’s a very human name.” Lance observes, hoping it doesn’t come across as rude. Keith just chuckles next to him though, shrugging his shoulders like he understands. “It’s not really what I was expecting, if I’m being honest. I do think it suits you, though.”

“My father was… human, I mean.” Keith says then, biting his lip. It catches Lance entirely off guard, his eyes widening even while he keeps his mouth firmly closed and waits for Keith to finish. He looks like he’s struggling slightly. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you my name, it’s the only thing I have that was his. I knew you’d ask and it just felt too personal to share with a stranger. For all I knew, you could have recognized the name. He was from your village, after all, back in the day.” 

“But if your father was a human, why did the-”

“They were different. Humans don’t  _ like _ different. Neither do wolves, from what I’ve heard.” Keith sighs heavily, leaning back and placing his hands in the grass behind him for support. He stares up at the sky overhead, watching the clouds drift by. “My mother’s pack turned against her for falling for a human. The other humans turned on my father when they found out about my mother and me. Their love was forbidden on both sides and they paid the ultimate price for it. Everyone told them to stay away from each other and they wouldn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry.” Lance says, immediately wincing when he remembers Keith’s last less-than-stellar reaction to that same sentiment. He wishes he could provide better comfort, but even now that he knows him better there isn't any words. What could anyone say that might begin to make this okay, or even the slightest bit easier to deal with? It’s not okay. Nothing about it is. “I don’t know what else to say. I wish I had the answers, but there aren’t any. There’s no reason, no explanation, no justification for what happened to your parents. People are capable of terrible fucking things when they’re afraid, but that doesn’t make it any better. It’s just a really tragic story, there’s no takeaway from that.”

“It’s not a story, not like the dumb tall tales your mother spun about wolves.” Keith huffs. “It’s  _ history _ with a lesson to be learnt, lest it end up repeating itself. Humans aren’t to be trusted. They’d rather the entire world burn than to share it with anyone that doesn’t look and think exactly like them.”

The words are heavy and scathing where they hang in the air after Keith finishes speaking and Lance has a good moment to really process them, to think it over and decide how to move forward. He doesn’t take it personally. Keith has every right to feel that way, up until meeting Lance that was his only impression of humans that he’d ever had. One nice stranger isn’t reason enough to undo a lifetime of those thoughts. Though, if he really believed that, why would he allow a stranger into his life in the first place? Surely there must be some part of him, however small, that wishes to be wrong about this.

_ That wants to believe Lance is different from the rest. _

Lance is determined to prove to him that he is. He reaches over and grabs his hand, trying to provide reassurance in the plainest of ways, though he doesn’t want to come on too strong about it if Keith doesn’t want to find comfort from someone like him. Keith doesn’t pull away though, he just freezes in shock, like he hadn’t been expecting Lance to try and reach out right now, all things considered.

“You’re placing a lot of trust in a human right now.”

“I know.” Keith agrees, flipping his hand over to weave his fingers between Lance’s, mindful of the sharp points of his claws. Lance smiles down at their interlocked hands, blue eyes slowly trailing back up to Keith’s face and lingering there. “I felt like you’d earned it after all these weeks. You’ve given me no reason to doubt you. But it wasn’t easy looking past what you are, not when I’ve spent my entire life being warned about you. Both by experience and by my brother.”

“You’ve mentioned your brother before. He’s one of your packmates?”

“When the humans came to burn us alive in our beds, our family home up in flames, Shiro dove through the window in his wolf form to save us. He was a friend of my mother’s, from her old pack, one of the few who didn’t forsake her for her choices. He didn’t have time to save us all, my mother begged him to save me, so he did.” Keith pauses then, closing his eyes tight and curling inward, seemingly pained by the recounting of what happened despite being too young to really recall the memories. “Sometimes I wonder if he made the right choice, picking me over her. Everything he tells me about her makes her sound like a hero, like a genius. I don’t know that I could ever live up to what she was. And he gave up so much to raise me, he gave everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“The pack wouldn’t welcome him back with me in tow, not with my human blood. Unlike everyone else, I couldn’t transform back and forth between my two-legged and four-legged forms willingly. They could choose, human or canine, and I was just caught somewhere in the middle forever. My human blood interfered with the magic, the curse, whatever it is that ties us to the moon. I was an abomination in their eyes, in the human’s eyes, probably in Shiro’s eyes too though he’d never admit it.”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t count for much, but I think you’re perfect exactly as you are.” Lance says softly, tracing his fingertips across Keith’s palm, holding his heavy gaze. And rather than avert his eyes and change the topic just as quickly like he’s so prone to do, instead Keith stares right back, something heavy and emotional circling in his dark irises. 

In that moment, they both seem painstakingly aware of how something between them is  _ shifting _ .

\--

“I think it’s missing something.” Lance observes, taking a step back to really criticize the beautiful snow sculpture he’s spent the better part of twenty minutes bringing to life. It really is an impressive piece, from the triangular ice chunks shoved into the head as ears and the two gold coins Lance had fished out of his pocket for the eyes, it holds a striking resemblance to his loyal and lovable wolf companion that’s standing by and watching him work. His eyes widen in realization. “It needs a tail!”

From somewhere behind him, Keith groans in annoyance. 

“Are you _ still  _ messing around with that? You’re going to get hypothermia at this rate, your clothes are soaked. Cut it out, it’ll be dark out soon, your abuelita is probably worried.” Keith sounds about as impressed as he’d been when Lance first announced he was going to make a snowman in his honor, which is to say not at all. Whatever, he hasn’t seen the finished product yet, and he might change his mind then because Lance really and truly has outdone himself this time. He knows he has, he’s proud of his work, and-

And he shrieks when a snowball hits him in the back of the head with startling accuracy, with just enough force behind it to have the ball exploding on impact and sending snow falling all over the collar of his cloak. He cries out as it melts, cool water following the line of his neck beneath the hem of his clothes and giving him a chill. He turns around to gape at Keith, who is lounging innocently against a nearby tree, lips curled back in a downright wolfish smirk. _ Bastard _ .

“You’re a dick.” Lance tells him, but even the insult finds a way to sound fond on his traitorous tongue. 

“You’re impossible.” Keith counters, shaking his head and pushing off from the tree. He walks across the clearing to where Lance is standing, then reaches out to adjust the collar of his cloak, bringing his hood up and tucking it around his ears to keep them warm. Lance glowers up at him all the while. 

The glare does, however, soften slightly when Keith brushes the backs of his fingers across Lance’s cheek where it’s flushed with pink and cool to the touch. Lance leans into the touch, chasing his warmth despite himself, still unwilling to admit that he’s been freezing since he set foot outside the house today.

“At least compliment my work, Keith, I’ve slaved over this fine sculpture for  _ hours _ in your honor.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Keith reminds him, but he does let his gaze reluctantly tear away from Lance’s, instead observing the snow-wolf to their left. He quirks a single bushy eyebrow at the sight of it, then drops his hand from Lance’s cheek to reach out and poke at the coins settled into the snow as eyes, a quiet huff of a laugh escaping his lips. “This looks nothing like me.” 

“It does so! How dare you, I worked so hard on th-”

“Come here, we should keep walking, the movement will keep you warm.” Keith says then, slinging an arm around Lance’s shoulders and drawing him in close to his side. And Lance goes willingly because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he really is cold, and Keith’s body radiates heat better than any flame Lance has ever huddled next to. Even now that Keith is actually wearing a shirt, albeit a ratty thin one that’d do little to protect a human against the temperatures, the heat spills right through it.

They make it back to the path soon enough as Lance stomps through the snow with his boots, still disturbed by Keith’s ongoing barefoot approach to life, even when the snow on the ground is nearly up to the height of his knees. He’s pretty sure Keith must be invincible at this point, to not feel the cold.

“Fuck. We really need to find a nice cave to start hanging out in, don’t you think?” Lance mumbles, cupping his hands over his mouth and breathing warm air onto them. Keith’s chest is a warm wall against his side, but it isn’t enough to stave off the heat entirely, not without Lance plastering himself against his skin like a lizard basking in direct sunlight. 

“A cave?”

“You’re right, caves suck. Maybe if we cover up your ears and that tail of yours, I could sneak you into abuelita’s house instead. She’s old, her vision is going, she might not even notice the fangs or the eyes.”

“Or,  _ a wiser solution _ , you could stay home like you have _ every other winter _ .” Keith tells him, not for the first time, in that same vaguely exasperated tone. And Lance can’t help but chuckle, turning to bury his face into the crook of Keith’s neck, intermittent giggles trickling out and replaced by a genuine smile. It doesn’t matter how many times Keith brings it up, he refuses to listen to a word of this argument. It isn’t even an option, no matter what Keith says. 

“Whatever.”

“I’m being serious! The journey is an entire hour longer with snow on the ground, Lance. If it weren’t for me being here to warm you up, you surely would have frozen to death on the way by now. If you get frostbite and lose your toes, I’m gonna be the one you blame for it, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“And what are you suggesting as an alternative? That I just go into hibernation and not see you again until spring? I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but that’s just not happening.”

“You’re a fool.” Keith sighs, but even without looking, Lance can hear the smile he’s wearing.

“I’ve done more for less.” Lance says, shrugging his shoulders and pulling back just enough to make eye contact. He’s immediately thankful for the decision, as he studies the deep red blush that spreads across Keith’s face in answer to the subtle compliment. Lance winks at him then, feeling confident, feeling a little bit more reckless than usual. “Personally, I think you’re worth it.”

Normally, they’re a little bit more discreet than this. It’s not exactly a secret that their relationship isn’t strictly platonic anymore, that it might have veered off _ that path _ a long time ago. They just haven’t decided how to approach the subject, or how to test the boundaries of what they can and can’t do any further than they already have. Clinging to and cuddling each other is one thing, still almost subtle enough to pass off as friendly if they want to continue lying to themselves and each other.

But once they take it even the tiniest step forward and kiss? There are no excuses for that.

With every passing day, the finality of that starts to feel less daunting and more tempting. Lance is failing to see the downside at all, which only spells trouble, as he gets less and less subtle about the way he shows off his feelings for Keith. And Keith goes along with it, utterly endeared by it, but it’s clear that he’s not quite sure yet if he’s ready to make it a thing. Only time will tell.

\--

By the time spring finally arrives and the snow is beginning to melt away, all pretenses of hiding their feelings have fallen away. They’re both equally as damnably obvious about it, there is no room left between them for doubt. They spend their days together plastered to each other’s sides, totally immersed in each other, completely indifferent to the forest around them for once. Nothing has ever stolen all of Lance’s attention away quite like Keith has managed to and he doesn’t even feel at a loss.

He’s gained so much, so very much, in knowing Keith.

And yet, he still feels like there’s more to learn. More to learn about Keith, more to learn together, more to learn about himself and how he’s changing by having Keith in his life. He can’t see himself tiring of it any time soon. If anything, he only wishes for more and more time together. Each and every week, it gets harder to walk away from him. He stretches their visits on longer, as long as he reasonably can without raising suspicion or risking staying out after dark, and still it doesn’t feel like enough.

“Well, here we are. Again.” Lance says coyly, scuffing his boot against the dirt, looking back at Keith over his shoulder and fluttering his eyelashes. Keith quirks a single eyebrow, very plainly indifferent to the dramatics and not willing to play along for Lance’s sake. Lance doesn’t care. He turns around, leans back against a tree, and winks at Keith outright. “You wanna come inside?”

“You’re not funny.” Keith deadpans, followed by a sigh as he steps closer despite himself and stands in front of Lance, looking down at him with warmth invading every one of his features. Lance grins cheekily, reaching up to loop his arms around Keith’s neck, linking his fingers together at his nape.

“I’m a little funny.” Lance argues softly. “I  _ saw  _ that smile, Keith.”

“You should go.” Keith repeats, not for the first time, definitely not for the last time. His hands have settled on Lance’s waist and are holding on tight, like despite his words, Lance actually moving to leave would be the worst possible outcome. “Seriously. Before the temptation to take you up on the offer outweighs my common sense. I don’t think your mother would appreciate the visit.”

“What common sense? Bold of you to assume you have any.” Lance counters, grinning cheekily. “And my mother would just have to deal with it. You’re not going anywhere, no matter what she, or anyone else, has to say about it. I’ve made up my mind, I’m keeping you.”

“Is that a promise?” Keith says then, but it doesn’t sound like flirting anymore, it sounds desperate.

Lance narrows his eyes at him, trying to make sense of the sudden tension between them.

“What’s up? You’ve been weird all day. Quiet.” Lance whispers quietly, unsure if it’s the right time to bring it up or not. He really is starting to worry though. Keith keeps spacing out into himself, saying uncharacteristically serious or sad things and then not bothering to elaborate, and in general he just hasn’t been himself. “It’s reminding me of when we first met. You keeping secrets from me again?”

“I won’t be able to see you next week.” Keith admits then, the fact clearly paining him. Lance sighs long and hard, tips his head back to rest against the tree as he thinks it over. It’s not often that Keith has other plans, but it happens every now and then, when Shiro and Adam demand his presence at home. It sucks, but there’s nothing that can be done to help it. Not really.

“Pack business  _ again _ ? A week is long enough as it is. I swear the days are getting longer and longer now that the snow is melting. It feels like a lifetime waiting to see you again as it is.” Lance isn’t shy about his disappointment, as he leans forward and rests his forehead against Keith’s chest. “I’ll be counting down the days until the weekend after, I hope you know.”

Beneath him, Keith tenses so hard that Lance feels it through him like a secondary shudder.

“We can’t see each other the week after next either. And probably not the week after that.” Keith admits then, as Lance lifts his head to search out his eyes. Keith is very pointedly avoiding his gaze though, expression riddled with guilt, and Lance doesn’t know what to make of that. This isn’t the normal time apart then, interrupted by Shiro and Adam. It’s something else entirely. “I think it’d be best if we spent some time apart for the next little while, Lance. I don’t know how long. Just… as long as it takes.”

“What?” Lance chokes out then, his chest feeling inexplicably tight around his heart, like his emotions have a chokehold around it. He doesn’t understand. This seems to be coming out of nowhere, they’d been getting along so well lately, he thought they were on the same page. “Did I...  _ do something _ ?”

“No. It’s not your fault.” Keith insists, but Lance isn’t quite so easily convinced now. Suspicion is crawling under his skin and he can’t shake the feeling that Keith is still keeping something from him. There has to be a reason for all of this and if it’s not his fault, then whose? “Look, right now tensions are high in my pack, they’re starting to suspect something with how much time I spend away from home. I think we should go our separate ways until it calms down. It’s the safest option, even if it sucks for both of us.”

Well. At least now he has his answer, even if it’s a disappointing one, it could have been worse.

At least this is fixable, either by waiting it out or trying to force a solution. Keith completely turning him down and not feeling the same at all wouldn’t have been something they could navigate around, this is just a bump in the otherwise smooth road. They can get past this. Together.

“Or…” Lance trails off, debates for a moment if the risk is going to pay off for him. He knows that Keith feels the same way he does, it’s just a question of how ready he is to embrace it, to toss their excuses and pretenses aside and just be with each other. There are obstacles, there are threats, there are a hundred and one reasons they shouldn’t be together… but none of that matters, not when Lance feels such certainty in his chest when he looks at Keith. 

“Or?” Keith questions, seemingly lost as to what Lance’s alternative could be.

“We could just  _ tell them _ .” Lance suggests, the words leaving him in a rush, in one quick and shaky exhale of breath that makes them hard to discern. Keith has heightened hearing compared to a human though and judging by the way his expression shifts to one of shock, he must have heard Lance loud and clear.

“ _ What _ ?”

“You know, tell them about me. About us. Our friendship.” Lance studies Keith’s face closely for any sign of an adverse reaction. Only, he doesn’t look the slightest bit apprehensive, he just looks plainly excited by the prospect of finally introducing Lance to his family. It’s more than a little bit reassuring and it has Lance gaining confidence as he continues. “I’m sure they’d have their reservations, but they’d come around in the end. And I’d like to meet them, your pack, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“You’re serious?” Keith asks him, like he really can’t believe it.

“Yeah. I really would. Shiro and Adam sound like amazing people, I want to know them.” Lance repeats with certainty, grinning up at him. Keith seems to be spacing out again though, lost in thought as he ponders the idea, and Lance grows antsy the longer he’s left to overthink it. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course, I’m not trying to force my way into your personal life or anyth-”

“ _ Lance _ . There is nothing in this world I’d love more than to introduce you to my pack.” Keith interrupts with a laugh, his grip on Lance’s hips tightening so suddenly that there isn’t much time to prepare for the way Keith hoists him clear off the ground. It’s an effortless display of strength and Lance feels heat pool in his stomach at the casual display, at how easily Keith can lift and pin him to the tree behind him. Fuck. 

“Y-Yeah?” Lance says sheepishly, wrapping his legs around Keith for support. Not that he needs it, Keith doesn’t seem to be struggling to hold him up in any case. He does, however, look like he’s struggling to look him in the eye, a sudden and sharp contrast from the excitement from before. Something still isn’t quite right and Lance knows it isn’t. “If that’s the case, why does it seem like you’re turning me down?”

“We can’t.” Keith sighs heavily, bordering on angry. It doesn’t seem to be directed at Lance though, so he’s left wondering just how suspicious Adam and Shiro have gotten. Do they know already? Have they forbidden Keith from seeing him or something? It isn’t adding up. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong.

“Why not?”

“It’s not safe for you.” Keith says then, through his teeth. Lance quirks an eyebrow and has to resist the urge to laugh at that, but Keith notices anyway and his expression darkens even further. “You need to stay away from me, Lance. And stay away from the forest too, just for a couple weeks, alright? No matter what happens, don’t set foot on this path, especially not after dark.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Lance asks, completely blindsided.

“Promise me.” Keith repeats, with more urgency now. And if Lance actually pays attention, he already has his answer to his question, it’s plain as day in the way Keith is clinging to him, in the way his eyes have grown wet with whatever internal fight he’s having with himself, the way he’s hanging his head low in shame. Lance hates it. He reaches out and settles a hand on Keith’s cheek to express as much, but Keith jerks away from the touch like he’s been burnt. “ _ Please _ . I won’t be able to protect you like I usually do and I need to know you’ll be safe. That’s all I need.”

“This has nothing to do with your pack, does it? You were lying to me.” Lance accuses and Keith nods reluctantly, refusing to meet his eyes. “What’s this about, really? Why aren’t you telling me the truth? I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other anymore.”

“You trust me, don’t you?” Keith asks then, which isn’t an answer exactly, but it’s a nail in the coffin of the conversation anyway. It’s a white flag, the closest thing to begging Keith ever does, when he needs Lance to simply hear him out and listen to what he’s saying. It’s never been used in a context quite like this, where Lance is almost annoyed by how much he really does trust Keith when it can be used against him like this. Still, he knows it must be serious. 

He loves Keith, he knows he’d never do anything to intentionally hurt him. 

“Of course I do, Keith, you _ know _ I do.” 

“Then please, just promise me you’ll stay out of the forest. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have to.”

“Fine. I’ll come up with some excuse not to visit abuelita for the next little while.” Lance hisses out, not pleased, but willing to take the fall anyway if it’s what Keith truly believes is best. Like it or not, he does trust Keith, blindly and wholly, and he knows there has to be a reason for all of this that makes sense.

“Thank-you.” Keith says hurriedly, relief washing across him so tangible that Lance knows he’s made the right decision in agreeing, even if he’s still confused about it. “It won’t be long. As soon as the season’s behind us, I’ll take you up on the offer and introduce you to my pack. I mean it. I’d really like that a lot.”

“Sure.” Lance manages, his tone clipped, as he bites back all the other choice words he’d like to share. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Keith, who knows him almost as well as he knows himself by now. He looks very visibly hesitant, like he can sense exactly how tumultuous things are between them right now. 

“You’re mad.” Keith says eventually, around a wince.

“A little.” Lance offers, in what is without a doubt the biggest understatement of the century. Keith gives him a skeptical once-over and Lance sighs heavily, squirming around until Keith puts him back down on solid ground and he can angrily stomp about like he needs to. “I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me what’s wrong! I’m obviously going to assume it’s my fault and that I’ve done something to upset y-”

Keith abruptly grabs his wrist and pulls him back in.

Lance stumbles on his feet but Keith is quick to steady him, one hand still gripping his wrist while the other goes to his lower back for support. Lance doesn’t have time to say a single thing before Keith is kissing him just as suddenly, ducking down and bringing his lips to Lance’s in a kiss with bruising urgency behind it, like he can’t wait another second. And it takes Lance a moment to get with the picture, to close his wide eyes and kiss back, but once he does he quickly loses himself to it.

Kissing Keith is everything he’d hoped it’d be and more, if he’s being honest. He’s held tight and close against the solid plane of Keith’s chest, coveted and protected from the rest of the world, surrounded by nothing but Keith’s warmth and quickly losing himself to it. Their kiss itself is passionate and clumsy, eagerness having them both pushing against each other. Not a fight for dominance, but rather a demand for more, a push to take things even further after waiting so long for it.

Lance is unmistakably breathless when they finally do pull apart, lips slick and jaw slack, breathless laughter spilling out of him before he’s even fully registered it’s him making the noise. Keith pulls back just enough to watch him with wide, adoring eyes like he’s never been blessed with a better sight.

A moment later and Keith is pulling him in again, like he can’t help himself now that he’s allowed it once.

“It’s not you. I promise it’s not your fault.” Keith assures him in whispers, lips ghosting across his lips, his chin, his cheeks in the most featherlight reassuring kisses. And Lance… he melts under the attention, all of his anger giving way to the deeper, stronger emotions within him. He can’t help it, he can’t stay mad at Keith, especially not now. “Never your fault, Lance.” 

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Lance laughs, trying and failing to push him away. Keith is determined now that he’s put his mind to lavishing Lance with kisses across his entire face and neck. After an ongoing struggle, Lance manages to wrench him back enough to look him in the eye. And between the laughter and the smiles shared, and the general feel-good feelings of finally addressing their mutual feelings, he can’t help but notice that something about Keith looks just the slightest bit… different.

His hair is a wild halo of black around his face, but that’s not unusual. The unusualness lies in the blown-wide pupils, pitch black where they engulf the familiar gold of his eyes, and darting erratically up and down as they devour the sight that is Lance kissed-speechless and flushed beneath him. And the teeth, god, Keith’s teeth have always seemed a little bit pointier and sharper than a normal human’s, but now they seem downright comically big for his mouth. His claws are similar, fully extended and sharp where they’re gripping Lance’s wrist, threatening to slice through skin effortlessly if he were to try and pull away before Keith wanted him to.

But it’s not even just the  _ physical _ differences, it’s something more than that.

Keith feels different. He’s standing taller, looming over Lance, and the air around him feels charged with something intimidating. He feels powerful, more than he ever has, more than even the day they’d met when Lance had been rightfully terrified of the unknown. This Keith is just erring on the side of inspiring fear again, with the unhinged lookabout him, the lack of control in the way his grip on Lance’s wrist tightens rather than loosens when Lance gently tries to wrench his hand off.

Keith looks hungry, like he hasn’t eaten in days, and never before has Lance seen the wolf beneath the surface so very clearly. 

“Well, I’d better get going.” Lance says then, around a tense laugh, fingers still prying Keith’s fingers off of him one by one. And Keith doesn’t fight it now, as he blinks back into clarity, but he certainly isn’t aiding the process any. It’s almost like it’s beyond him, like he can’t control himself. Lance’s heart is fluttering like a hummingbird’s in his chest. He thinks he might be starting to maybe understand what the threat in the woods is, though he doesn’t want to assume, he really doesn’t want to.

He trusts Keith. He loves Keith. Keith would never hurt him.

It’s just… he’s not exactly sure how much of the man he’s looking at right now is Keith, and how much is… something else entirely. He still doesn’t understand, but he thinks he’s starting to a little bit more.

“I’ll miss you.” Keith says, as Lance pulls away and reaches down to grab his basket where it’d fallen beside them in the grass. Lance smiles up at him, extending a hand that Keith quickly takes to help him back up. Face-to-face again, Keith immediately leans in to kiss him once more, and Lance regrettably slips a hand between their lips at the last second to stop him. 

“I’ll miss you more, trust me.” Lance promises, tracing his fingers across the swell of Keith’s bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness there. And Keith leans into the touch eagerly, eyes fluttering closed, making it all the more difficult to stop. But Lance does, because he gets the feeling he might be the only one able to draw the line right now. “I need to go, Keith. I’ll see you soon?”

“Soon.” Keith says, pulling back like he’s just come back to himself and is ashamed of his lapse in judgment, eyes wide and surprised with himself. He quickly wipes the shock from his face though and replaces it with an encouraging grin, like Lance is the one in need of support. Lance is actually beginning to suspect the exact opposite, though he can’t really do anything about it when Keith is begging him to look the other way and go on his merry way. And Lance respects him too much to ignore his wishes, so that’s what he’ll do, though it’s tearing him up inside.

Lance turns and leaves, stepping out of the forest and walking across the neatly-trimmed yard outside his mother’s home, littered with neat flower beds and gardens. More than once he stops to look behind himself, only to find Keith still standing there, watching him walk away with a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down Lance’s spine no matter how he tries to justify or dismiss it.

\--

It’s a week and a half later and for the most part, Lance has been managing to keep himself busy enough not to worry too much. He just hopes he’s making the right decision in distracting himself, that Keith isn’t in trouble and in need of his help wherever he is. There’s no way to know that though, so all he can do is trust that Keith knows what’s going on better than he does, and that he made the right call for them both by asking Lance to stay away. Lance really, really hopes so.

Today in particular, Lance is keeping himself busy by accompanying his mother on her weekly errands in town. They’ve stopped by her friends' houses, stopped by a few local farms for fresh food and supplies, and now they find themselves stopping at the local pub for a meal before heading home. She hasn’t asked him about it yet, but she seems to sense that there’s something off about his sudden insistence to stay home and not go visiting, after months of it being his absolute favorite time of the week.

He figures the questions are coming and he’s been debating telling her the truth.

But for now, he figures they’d better enjoy their meal and not turn any heads by having such a heavy conversation in the middle of such a public place. His plate is mostly empty when they both finish their drinks early, so he volunteers to go to the bar to get them both refills. It’ll give him a second to clear his head and figure out how he’s going to approach the topic of Keith. He’s made up his mind. He wants to tell her now. Needs to. So when the time comes and he can start going out to see Keith again, he won’t be limited to just random weekly visits. He’ll come and go as he pleases. 

He’s halfway to the bar when rowdy laughter distracts him from the task. He turns to stare in the direction of the crowd, pulling a face at the blatant drunkenness on display. The group of men consists of a few familiar faces and a handful of strangers and they’ve been carrying on since Lance first stepped inside the building. Drinks sloshing over their faces and clothes, laughter echoing loudly through the bar, weapons slung over their shoulders and backs. 

Any other time, Lance would ignore it and walk away, but he’s irritable now and he can’t help but feel annoyed as he marches right up to them to request that they quiet down out of respect for the rest of the patrons. It’s barely evening yet after all, the sun is only just beginning to set, and it’s no time at all for drinking heavily.

Only, when he reaches their table and they all look up at him, the words die on his tongue.

There, in the center of their table, is a pelt.

A wolf pelt.

It’s not new, it’s an old and worn one, probably decades old if the fading leather and worn fur is anything to judge by. Still, it sends a chill through Lance, and he can’t help but think of Keith and his family wherever they are right now. He wonders if they even realize the full extent of the weaponry that humans have nowadays, the guns and muskets they carry could easily down any creature in the woods.

“What’s going on here?” Lance blurts out, surprising both himself and most of the men. A couple of them give him a skeptical glance and then a dismissive snort, like he isn’t worth the time it’d take to explain. One of the men that Lance recognizes though, Hunk Garret that he’d gone to school with, gives him a gentle grin and reaches over to clap him on the shoulder.

“A hunting party.” Hunk informs him. “There’s been a lot of wolves spotted nearby lately. Breaking into chicken coops, stealing sheep, one even followed a woman home recently. Stalked her the whole way, probably would’ve tried to make a move if she didn’t live so close to town. They’re becoming a danger to the locals so we have no choice but to do something about it. Are you interested in joining?”

“You’re going to kill them?” Lance asks quietly, hands nervously wound together, shaking in front of him no matter how he tries to hide it. He doesn’t even attempt to answer Hunk’s question, isn’t sure that he could without making himself sick. The idea of him joining these men in hunting down wolves, not knowing whether they’re truly killing animals or people. It’s a nightmare.

“Any we can manage to find.” Hunk nods. “Have you seen any around?”

“No!” Lance all but shouts, perhaps with a little bit too much passion. Hunk recoils like he’s been struck, eyes wide and confused, and Lance does feel the slightest bit bad about it. He knows Hunk is a good guy, that he’s probably only joined in on this hunting party because he thinks he’s doing the right thing and protecting people, but he doesn’t know all of the facts. How could he? 

“Count your blessings. They get wild this time of year.” Another voice speaks up, sharply, and Lance’s gaze darts to the tall man standing at the head of the table. He has long white hair and it’s tied back behind his head with a ribbon. Lance has never seen him around before. “It’s their mating season, you know? Makes them act out of line, more bloodthirsty than usual, to the point they get careless and reckless with it. It’s best to down the population now, before they have the chance to breed any more and overrun us. Besides, they’re all too fucking horny to see us coming, their guards will be down.”

The man tips his head back into more raucous guffaws then and Lance glares at him, hands curling into fists as he shoves them down into his pockets. 

“I need to go.” Lance announces then, not even waiting to see their reactions before turning away and rushing back to his table. His mind is moving at a million miles per second, his heart racing in his chest, his breathing coming in stuttered shaky little gasps. He’s terrified. The thought of Keith all alone in the woods, unarmed and defenseless, lost to his biology and instincts so terribly that he doesn’t even know what’s coming for him until it’s too late. And sure, they might not gun him down on sight, but they’d surely shoot down Adam or Shiro without a second thought. And Keith isn’t far off, once they realized how different he was, they wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on him too.

The thought makes Lance nauseous, as he reaches his mother’s side again and places a heavy hand on their table for support. She looks up at him in shock, but any anger quickly dissipates to concern when her eyes land on his face. Whatever’s on display there must be pretty transparent, as worry eats away at her until her expression is a shell of her genuine smile. She looks almost as scared as Lance feels.

“What’s wrong?”

“A friend is in danger. I need to help him.” Lance tells her, deciding that now isn’t really the time to speak in lies, though the whole truth of it would only take him more time to explain. “I need to go deep into the woods and find him, do you understand? I’m not asking you for permission like usual, I’m telling. I’m going whether you want me to or not. I’m sorry, but I have to do this. If I don’t… I don’t even want to think about what might happen to him. It’s a matter of life or death, Mama.”

For a long moment, she simply stares at him. He stands in front of her and accepts the scrutiny, holding his breath as he waits for her to give her final word. No matter what he says, of course he cares what she has to say. He’s going to go regardless because Keith needs him, but he does want for her approval, like always. He wants to know that she’ll be okay here without him and won’t be sick with worry all night.

Finally, she reaches over to the seat next to her with a sigh. Lance doesn’t realize what she’s looking for until she lifts his discarded hood, such a bright and vivid red that it almost seems to glow. She holds it out to him, understanding shining in her wet eyes, a bittersweet smile on her lips.

“Wear your cape, it’s dark out and there are a lot of hunters in the woods right now, bright colors might be your only saving grace.” She tells him, and suddenly he understands why she gave it to him in the first place all those years ago, when he’d first started to walk to his abuelita’s place through the woods. He graciously accepts it and lifts it to his shoulders, and she reaches up to tie the knot at the base of his throat, in a familiar little bow. When she’s finished, she looks up at him, and lifts a hand to his cheek to stroke it with the backs of her knuckles. “Stay safe out there, you hear me? Come back in one piece.”

“I will.” Lance promises, smiling down at her. “Thank-you.”

\--

Not once in Lance’s entire life has he stepped foot in the forest _ after dark _ .

It just isn’t the sort-of thing that people do. The trees that make up the forest around their particular village are old, older than any of the elders, older than most of the houses they live in. They’re thirty, forty, fifty feet tall. On a normal day, this just brings about a sense of shaded privateness and security in the woods, like a particularly woolen thick blanket. But when there’s no light shining through the sparse branches? When there’s no life shuffling about in the branches? No birds singing? It doesn’t feel like a comforting embrace, it feels like a smothering one, like Lance is walking into a dark tunnel with no end.

In place of his usual basket, Lance carries a small oil lantern with a flame flickering away inside. It does little to light the path ahead of him, illuminates barely more than a few feet in front of him, and he can’t help but feel that he’s in over his head here. But then he remembers the hunters, remembers that the group would only have grown bigger during their evening at the pub looking for recruits. Twenty, thirty men stumbling through the forest toting weapons? They’re certain to end up killing _ something _ and Lance is determined to make sure it doesn’t end up being Keith, or his family.

He has to do this. There is no other option.

Each step he takes down the familiar path feels less and less familiar. Every tree, every branch, every lead feels like something completely foreign to him in the dark. Nothing is the same as it is in the light, it all holds an ominous amount of mystery behind it. His eyes aren’t adjusting no matter how long he spends squinting into the shadows and he can’t ignore the underlying realization that he really is just a sitting duck out here. He’s woefully underprepared to fight, to run, to do much of anything to defend himself against any potential threats that might come his way.

All of his mother’s warnings are echoing in his mind and they’ve never felt so pressing.

The light in his lantern burns low as the wind whips through the trees and leaves his cape billowing behind him, flicking against the backs of his legs. He ignores all the warning alarms blaring in his head, all the desperate bids from his brain to turn around and run back to safety. He stomps ahead, through puddles of melted snow, through the thick mulch of half-rotted leaves from seasons passed. His boots are soaked through already and there’s a chill to the spring air that has him gritting his teeth in discomfort and wrapping his cloak closer to his frame. The feeling of helplessness isn’t a fleeting one, it’s something that grows more and more present in his mind the deeper into the woods he goes.

He’s sure an hour has passed, that he must be at least halfway down the path to his abuelita’s cabin in the woods, but so far nothing has attempted to stop him on the way. A blessing and a curse really, because right about now is when he is furthest from civilization, the furthest from a rescue if something terrible were to happen. He could scream and no one would ever hear it here. It’s the perfect time to strike, just like his mother had always warned him about.

And not for the first time in these woods, Lance can’t shake the feeling that something is watching him.

It is the first time it’s felt so plainly predatory though, like whatever it is stalking him has less than pure intentions when it manages to finally catch him. He hopes it’s only his own mind messing with him, but he can’t be so sure. Especially not when he starts to hear twigs snapping behind him and leaves rustling.

Lance looks back over his shoulder and nearly trips over his own feet when he sees a figure standing on the path ten feet back. It isn’t standing on two legs though, it isn’t the outline of a person. It’s the outline of an animal, huge and hulking, with eyes as red as Lance’s cloak glaring back at him. He thinks he might even be able to make out the white outline of its teeth in the dark and that’s when he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that running is his only option. Whatever that is, it sure as hell _ isn’t _ Keith.

With that realization, Lance clutches his lantern tight and takes off  _ running. _

There’s a decidedly unimpressed roar from behind him, but Lance doesn’t look back at the source, he just keeps staring straight ahead and listening to the rapid hammering off his boots through the dirt. He ends up covered in slush and freezing water, and the light of his lantern threatens to flicker out more than once as the oil jostles around inside the lamp and the wind blows at it, and his lungs are heaving for air as he hyperventilates and pants through his sprinting… but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t dare to. 

More than once, he’s sure he can feel the heavy slobbering breaths of the beast against the back of his neck and it terrifies him into running faster, pushing himself even harder. A couple times he feels a clawed paw swipe at his legs and it nearly knocks him off balance, but he always manages to right himself just in time to keep driving forward, trying desperately to put some space between him and his pursuer. At one point, it grabs hold of his cape with what he can only assume are its strong jaws, but even then he doesn’t allow himself to stop. He hears the sickening tear of fabric and then he’s loose again, and he doesn’t hesitate to sprint even faster.

He runs and runs and runs, until he’s sure his legs are about to give out and his lungs are collapsing in on themselves, and then he continues to run some more. He doesn’t stop until he sees a light flickering in the distance, a tiny candle in a windowsill, one that he recognizes from countless days spent with his beloved abuelita. She told him once that she always put a candle out at night, in case any wayward travelers had gotten lost in the woods and needed a waypoint to follow.

He certainly feels lost now, as he barrels toward it as quickly as possible.

Lance reaches the cabin and slams through the door in what feels like the nick of time, as he slams it closed behind himself and props his entire body weight up against it. He’s prepared for something to collide with the other side, so much so that it’s almost more alarming when nothing does. There is no struggle from the other side of the door, no effort made to get into the cabin at all, and Lance isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a terrible thing.

It takes him a few minutes to calm down enough to really look around the familiar space, but the moment he does he knows that something is wrong. His abuelita’s home is completely trashed. Her furniture is all tipped over, her floor covered in shredded clothes and shattered fine china, and the door he’s leaning against is weathered with massive claw marks... on  _ the inside _ .

What the hell did he just lock himself in here with?

Whatever it is, he knows he’s not safe huddled up by the door. He gets to his feet and quietly moves about the wrecked house, trying to ignore the growing dread in the pit of his stomach that something terrible has happened to his abuelita. He moves through the pain, swallowing it down and letting it fuel him as he hunts out a knife in the mess of splintered cabinets and shattered dishes that is the kitchen.

He clutches it in his fist so hard that it wrist hurts and his knuckles go white, as he slowly moves down the hall in search of what could have possibly caused so much damage. Distantly, he can hear something in one of the bedrooms, something that sounds suspiciously similar to bubbly laughter. The closer he gets, the more distinct it becomes, until he’s sure that someone… or something… is giggling like a child behind the closed door of the guest bedroom Lance normally sleeps in.

Fuck. Talk about horror stories, none of his mother’s “tall tales” could have prepared him for this.

He lifts his boot and lands it square below the door handle, kicking it open with force and stumbling into the room with his knife at the ready. He expects the worst. He expects to see blood on the upholstery, to see a beast lurking in the middle of the room, to have a fight to the death waiting on him on the other side of that damned door. As far as he’s concerned, he’s walking into his funeral.

He isn’t walking into… whatever this is.

This being the disheveled and barely-clothed man that bolts upright in the bed, ears perked high on his head in alertness, and eyes wide as saucers with shame when they meet Lance’s in the dim candle-lit room. Lance recognizes him in an instant, despite the lack of lighting and the generally uneasy situation.

“Keith? Is that you?” Lance asks hesitantly, stepping further into the room, slowly letting his knife lower to his side. Keith blinks back at him like he isn’t entirely aware of what he’s looking at yet, or maybe he doesn’t believe that it’s really Lance. Slowly but surely, the doubt gives way to excitement, until Keith is grinning ear-to-ear at him with an uncharacteristic giddiness. Something is decidedly still not right about him, but Lance will take the potential foe that he knows, over the definite foe that he’s never seen in his fucking life that’s waiting on him outside. “What are you doing here, Keith?”

Keith doesn’t answer him, he simply falls back against the mattress with his limbs askew. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers that are settled low on his hips, and his tail is swishing back and forth loudly across the sheets, so neither of his particular excitements go unnoticed. Lance gulps, looking around the room for any sign of a struggle. This room, however, is completely untouched.

“Is this where you sleep when you stay here?” Keith asks suddenly, and for a moment there Lance had been starting to assume that he wasn’t capable of speaking like this. He heaves a sigh of relief, feeling slightly more confident now that he knows they can communicate. No matter what’s happened, as long as Keith can tell him about it, then at least they have some footing to move forward on.

“Yeah, this is the guest room.” Lance offers, crossing the threshold toward the bed with tentative steps, still not entirely sure that he can trust Keith. Keith who has taken to rolling around in the sheets, rubbing his face up against them, tail wagging so hard behind him that it’s hammering against the mattress in a repetitive beat. It would be cute, given literally any other circumstances. As it is, Lance has to fight back his smile until he has more answers.

“It smells like you.” Keith offers suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows to look over at Lance with soft, adoring eyes like he’s just remembered that he’s actually there. And like this, with his hair falling in his eyes and his cheeks flushed, Lance finds it remarkably hard to believe that Keith could ever be a threat to him or anyone else. This is still his Keith, the one that’s loyal and dependable, the one who always puts his needs first. His Keith isn’t capable of killing another person, and certainly not someone that Lance cares about. There has to be another explanation.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I need you to concentrate.” Lance says, quickly crossing the room and settling on the edge of the bed, tossing the knife to the floor as a final show of faith. Keith eyes him for a minute before quickly sitting up and crawling across the bed to him. Lance isn’t sure what he’s expecting exactly, but it certainly isn’t for Keith to drape himself over his back and rub up against him, face nuzzling into the nape of his neck while his hips work clumsily against his lower back. Lance’s eyes widen comically and then he’s scrambling back to his feet, gaping down at Keith who doesn’t seem to have an ounce of shame about him. “Fuck, okay, I’m just gonna ask you.  _ Where is my abuelita _ ?”

Keith tilts his head to the side, ears perked, and then grins wolfishly up at him.

“Why so angry, Lance?” Keith says finally, an unhinged look in his eyes that sends Lance stumbling backward with clumsy steps. Keith is on his feet in a flash, so quickly that Lance barely registers the movement until suddenly they’re standing a foot apart and Keith’s hands are on his chest. He keeps walking backward to evade him, but eventually there’s nowhere left to go, and his back presses flat against the wall. “Do you think I had a hand in her disappearance? Don’t tell me that you think _ I  _ did something to her? Lance, what happened to all that trust we had? Are you wondering if I tore her apart with my sharp teeth and my crooked claws, and then crawled into the bed to lie in wait for  _ you _ ?”

“This isn’t fucking funny, stop joking around.” Lance snaps, slapping his hands away. Something about it seems to catch Keith off-guard and he blinks into sudden awareness, clarity dawning on his features in the most dire and serious of ways. Something grim flickers across his expression and then he’s backing off abruptly, backing off so far that he finds himself standing on the other side of the room with his back turned to Lance. Lance stares after him, feeling guilty for pushing him away despite everything.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Keith’s voice is quiet now, lacking that manic quality from before, instead heavy with emotion. Lance licks his lips, nervously eyeing the knife lying on the floor. “I  _ warned you _ , Lance.”

“Just tell me she’s okay.” Lance pleads, his voice breaking.

“You promised me. You promised you wouldn’t go into the forest. No matter  _ what  _ happened.”

“Please, Keith!” Lance shouts now, voice ringing through the empty house, and Keith flinches visibly in response. He brings his hands up to cover his ears too, like it’s physically hurt him, and Lance is reminded again that he really has no idea at all what Keith is going through right now. Keith went through great lengths to try and hide this from him actually, whether out of shame or guilt or care for Lance… he’s not yet sure. All he knows is that Keith clearly thinks he should deal with this on his own.

“She’s fine. The hunters took her back to town. Told her it wouldn’t be safe for a little old woman alone in the woods on a night like tonight. They were pretty heavily armed and they left just before sundown, I imagine they made it back safely by now. She’s probably at your mother’s place.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“But it’s not her you should be worried about, Lance.” Keith says then, and it’s half serious and earnest, and it’s half  _ threat _ . Keith is losing himself to whatever fight he’s fighting inside and Lance is watching it happen in real time. He’s watching Keith _ lose _ . “Not only is it spring, in the middle of mating season for my kind, but you also chose the worst possible night of the season to be out here gallivanting about after dark. There’s a full moon overhead behind all of those clouds. Did you know that?”

Lance makes the decision to ignore what Keith is telling him. It’s past the point of saving himself from whatever the night has in store, right now he wants to get as many answers as he can while Keith is still lucid enough to give them to him. He needs to get information, panicking now will do him no good.

“Something chased me. In the woods.” Lance says then, and that seems to get Keith’s attention more than anything else. He turns to Lance again, the yellow of his eyes glinting with the reflection of the flame on the windowsill, and something about having that much raw energy all focused in on him has Lance stumbling over his words in a flustered state. “Um, could it have been Shiro or Adam?”

“Not likely.” Keith answers, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. Lance narrows his eyes at him.

“Are you sure about that? It  _ looked _ like a wolf.”

“Shiro and Adam have barely left their den in days, Lance, they’ve been keeping themselves _ very  _ busy.”

Lance was already starting to put two and two together, he’s not stupid, thank-you. From the hunters mentioning mating season to Keith’s very obviously… frustrated state, Lance had deduced that there had to be something more at hand than just blind violence. He isn’t some naive blushing virgin, but for Keith to spell it out so bluntly still has his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“ _ Days _ ? They’ve just been going at it nonstop for  _ days _ ?! Like-”

“Like  _ animals _ ?” Keith offers smugly, and something about the air of casualness he talks about the entire situation is both infuriatingly annoying and attractive alike. Lance supposes it makes sense, if Keith’s been through this all before, if it’s a simple part of life to him to go through it every year. It’s still all stark and startlingly new to Lance though, and he’d appreciate a bit of sensitivity for his sake. He doesn’t want to think about Keith’s family holed up in some cave, rutting into each other with some single-minded instinctive level of investment, with rough hands covered in sharp claws and sharp teeth snapping at each other while they go at each other...

Fuck. And yet here he is, thinking about it anyway. 

It’s not that it sounds appealing. It doesn’t. It might be something that a wolf could live through, possibly even find enjoyable depending on their own personal pain threshold, but Lance is sure that he wouldn’t walk away from an encounter with Keith in this state in one piece. His soft skin would flay under his claws and those teeth would rip his throat out before ever managing to claim him with a mark. It just isn’t realistic, it isn’t appealing, and Lance certainly isn’t thinking about it when Keith walks toward him with that smirk still on his lips. He’s  _ not _ .

“Well, uh, thanks for the imagery of  _ that _ , but I have more questions about the wolf that was chasing me through the woods and trying to eat me alive so if you don’t mind-”

“All territory limits are off during mating season.” Keith says then, with a sense of finality. Lance looks back at him in shock, jaw slowly slackening. “Part of the mate-finding process for us, and part of what makes the forest so dangerous right now. I can’t vouch for any of the other wolves, to many of us meat is meat no matter the species. I’m sure some of them would look at a human and see a quick and easy meal, especially one traveling without any _ weapons to defend himself _ .”

“You can’t seriously be blaming the victim here! It tore my cape with its  _ teeth _ , Keith.” Lance tells him, stomping straight over to him despite all the apprehension he’d been feeling previously, and landing a solid punch to his shoulder. Keith stumbles backward sluggishly, like a drunken man, and then he takes to more hysteric giggling. Though now he keeps looking up at Lance through his lashes as he does it, affection swimming in the pools of amber just barely visible around the blacks of his pupils.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. What a  _ bastard _ . How dare they put their hands, or paws, on you without asking for permission first. If I ever catch them in my forest again, I’ll tear their throat out with my teeth to defend my lovely mate’s honor.” Keith says then, grinning toothily, face flushed with warmth. Ignoring the connotations of the new title Lance has apparently gained at some point, it’s easy to find Keith’s lighthearted and playful mood contagious.

Lance can’t help it, he joins in on the ridiculous laughter, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. If you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well join ‘em. And he can’t deny that he does feel a little bit loopy after all the adrenaline he’s been pumped full of the past couple hours. Now that he knows he’s relatively safe and his abuelita will be okay, it’s a little easier to relax and think about the sheer stupidity of the situation he’s in right now. 

“There! That’s the reaction I was looking for!” Lance laughs, giving in and collapsing forward. He throws his arms around Keith’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, a breathless wet little laugh wracking his frame that sounds suspiciously closer to a sob. He buries his face into Keith’s neck and simply breathes, sorting through the jumbled emotions to try and understand what he’s feeling now.

“Your heart is still hammering away in your chest. I can hear it.” Keith whispers, then, turning his head to press a fleeting kiss to Lance’s cheek. And Lance doesn’t really know what he’s feeling, only that there’s a lot of it, as a couple tears roll down his face and he gives a pathetic whimper. “Are you scared?”

“Not of you. Never you. I trust you.” Lance hurries to say, turning his head to catch Keith’s lips in a kiss. It’s only meant to be a soft peck to reassure his lover, but Keith seems to miss the memo. He kisses back with a fervor, hands coming to grip Lance’s face and hold it steady while his tongue dives between his lips to claim his mouth so thoroughly that Lance struggles to remember he was upset in the first place.

They pull apart to gasp for air and Lance finds himself shoved unceremoniously backward, where he lands on the mattress with his cape spread out beneath him. Keith follows him down afterward, like a dog to a bone, and settles between his widespread legs. Lance’s head is spinning with how quickly things are moving, but he finds himself wrapping his legs around Keith’s narrow hips despite himself, and pulling him in against the line of his body. The sound Keith makes in answer could only really be classified as a growl, as it reverberates through his chest so hard that Lance feels the secondhand vibration of it.

He tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling while Keith descends upon his neck with feverish determination. He’s careful not to use anywhere near the full extent of his strength, instead limiting himself to playful nips and rough laves of his tongue across Lance’s sensitive skin.

“That other wolf… it was really scary, Keith.” Lance blurts, not even fully aware that he’d planned on saying anything until it’s already slipping out. Keith gives an acknowledging hum against his skin and kisses harder, paying special attention to the side of his throat where he’s no doubt creating a deep and purpled bruise in his wake. Lance drops a hand to his hair and strokes through it, trying to ground himself as his anxious thoughts come crawling back. “I thought it was going to _ eat me alive _ . I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you, or anyone, ever again. I thought it was the end for me.”

“Mm.” Keith hums, hunching over him and seemingly remembering how closely they’re pressed together as his hips begin to rock again. It’s clumsy and useless, just rutting their bodies together in search of any friction he can get, but the urgency behind it works Lance up more than the act itself. Soon, he finds himself getting hard too, as Keith all but rubs himself off against his crotch.

“If it comes back, can you fight it off? I know you’re feeling the effects of whatever this is too, but can I trust you to protect me? Please? I’m scared.” Lance admits, though he still feels shy about it. Keith’s hips stutter against his at the admission and then suddenly his teeth are sinking in harder, deeper, and with far more purpose. Instantly, Lance knows they’ve drawn blood, and he cries out and uses his grip on Keith’s hair to tug him backward. “Fuck!  _ Keith _ , calm down, not so rough!”

Immediately, Lance is struck with the realization that Keith doesn’t look guilty at all, as he whimpers high in the back of his throat like a kicked puppy and tries to fight against Lance’s grip on him. He pushes and writhes forward, whining all the while, until Lance finally caves and lets him bury his face in his neck again. At the very least, he kisses and laps at the wound, rather than working to make it any bigger. 

But somehow that doesn’t feel like much of a reassurance given the circumstances.

“I can’t believe you bit me!”

“Oh, come on.” Keith groans, lifting his head to look down at him. He’s wild, pupils blown out with lust, lips pulled back into a feral grin of sharp teeth, ears twitching excitedly atop his head. Lance can’t see it from this angle, with Keith on top of him, but he’s sure his tail must be wagging. “Can you  _ really  _ blame a wolf for wanting to bite when you smell so _ delicious _ ? It’s enough to drive a person mad, man or beast, doesn’t matter. I’d like to see  _ anyone _ resist this. Fuck, I want to  _ devour _ you.”

“I don’t know how much of this is lust talking and how much is genuine hunger.” Lance jokes nervously, trying to shift up the bed and get his arms underneath himself for support. It’s not an easy task with Keith on top of him, hands fumbling up and down his body, pushing underneath his shirt to splay across smooth bare skin. Lance yelps when clawed fingertips trace across one of his nipples, slamming a hand down on Keith’s face and pushing him back. This time, Keith listens, and reluctantly pries himself off of Lance with a pout on his face that’s decidedly puppy-dog like. “Keith? You with me? I think we should slow down. You’re not thinking straight. This thing between us is new, even if we’ve felt this way for a while now. This probably isn’t a good time to take things further between us. I don’t want you to regret it later. This is your first time, right? You’ve never done this with anyone before?”

“ _ Regret it _ ?” Keith repeats in a hiss, like he doesn’t even understand the meaning of the words, like he’s been thoroughly puzzled by them. Lance nods slowly, sitting up and gesturing for Keith to settle beside him. Keith clambers into his lap instead and goes back to kissing and sucking at his neck, now going so far as to pull his shirt aside to venture down to his collarbones. Lance allows it though, decides that it’s a little bit easier to keep his head about him this way at least, when Keith isn’t grinding their erections together at that same over-eager pace. “How in the world could I regret you? Have you _ seen  _ yourself?”

“Well, uh, thanks, I’m very flattered. You’re not exactly hard on the eyes either, trust me, I’m very attracted to you too.” Lance swallows hard, wincing inwardly. “But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready, it doesn’t matter who your partner is. Trust me, I learnt that the hard way with my first time, I don’t want you to go through what I went through. You might end up resenting me for it.”

At that, Keith pulls away to look at him. Finally. Lance breathes a sigh of relief, thinking he might have finally gotten through to him, despite whatever lust-hazed fog has settled over his mind. Keith looks present enough, as he smiles sweetly at Lance. There’s just an air about him that Lance can’t quite place, it almost feels mocking though… like he’s amused by Lance’s lack of understanding about this. Huh.

“Lance, as much as I appreciate the concern, I think this is just one of those instances where I’m more wolf than human. Mostly because I don’t _ have _ those hang-ups.” Keith tells him then, reaching up with a clawed hand to grip Lance’s jaw and turn it upward to make sure they hold eye contact. Lance had no intentions of looking away before, but now that he’s staring into Keith’s eyes like this, when they’re soft with sincerity and seriousness, Lance knows he wouldn’t be able to if he tried. Keith smiles at him, and this time it isn’t wolfish at all, it’s meek and understanding. It’s Lance’s Keith, the one he met and fell for, without all of the other factors at play. “Trust me. I’ve met potential mates before, even during season, and it’s never been like this. I can smell how right this is. You’re the one, the only one. My mate.”

“You called me that earlier.” Lance points out awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware we, uh, had a label.”

“Yes, my life mate.” Keith says again, nuzzling against his chest while Lance’s breath catches in his throat in realization. Of course he’d known that wolves mated for life, he’d even heard Keith talk about Shiro and Adam’s relationship in that context. He just hadn’t realized how quickly it would be applying to the two of them. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to commit to Keith for the rest of his life. What if his feelings change and he meets someone else? There’s no way to predict what the future holds, and _ life mates  _ sound a lot more serious than marriage even.

“Life mates? Are you sure about that?” 

“You gave me constant courting gifts, you asked to meet my pack, and just now you accepted my bite to mark you as mine, Lance. I  _ told you  _ to stay away, I told you that I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you anymore if you came back.” Keith recounts the list like he’s thought it over a million times over in his head, has been ticking the factors off one by one for a while now. “And yet here you are, barely a week later, prancing around in front of me in that fucking cape, smelling like goddamn apples and cinnamon-sugar, and asking me to _ protect you _ . All things that a _ mate  _ would do, you realize?”

“Keith.” 

“All that’s left to do _ is _ mate.” Keith reminds him pointedly, rolling his hips downward against Lance’s and earning punched-out groans from both of them. And it feels good, unmistakably good, but Lance is still reeling with the realization that Keith wants to dedicate his entire life to him and that’s not the sort-of thing you can just brush aside to deal with later. He needs to think about this first. Keith seems like thinking is the furthest thing from what he wants to be doing right now, though.

“This isn’t you.” Lance says firmly, fingers curling through the short wispy hair that covers Keith’s chest in sparse patches. Keith lets out a bestial growl, but he doesn’t fight back against Lance’s hold, just trembles in place as he fights with his own restraint. “The Keith I know would wait to hear me give explicit permission before trying anything. He’d never force himself on anyone.”

“Is that what you think this is? Force?!” Keith snarls then, and oh, how the anger in his voice carries through the entire cabin. Lance doesn’t even have time to wonder if he should feel afraid before Keith is launching onto his feet and stomping away. Lance sits up to watch him stumble around the room in search of his clothes. “Fine. I’ll leave. You stay here, pile furniture against the door, lock me out, anything you feel the need to do to feel safe. As long as the big bad wolves don’t huff and puff and blow the place down… you’ll be safe here until daybreak. I should have better control by then, and I’ll  _ escort you home _ .”

“ _ Should _ ?” Lance questions softly, deciding that that’s the only safe thing to question about that entire statement. He doesn’t like how much it sounds similar to break-ups he’s had in the past, where they agreed to disagree on the things they wanted and simply went their separate ways. Of course he knows that’s not the case and Keith will certainly feel more patient once whatever this is passes, but for now it certainly feels final. And what happens if he does meet another potential mate in the meantime? Before it passes? One that’s willing to give him what Lance isn’t?

“You’re right that this isn’t me. Not entirely. The wolf is fighting for control. As the night goes on and the moon gets higher in the sky, it’ll only get worse. I’m not sure I’ll be able to let you walk away a second time if I catch you again later.” Keith explains gruffly, turning to look at him one last time. “I’ll do what I can to protect you, but try to remember that I’m not some  _ hound _ standing guard at your door. I’m still a wolf and at the end of the day, my loyalty lies with my own selfish desires.”

“I understand.” Lance nods his head solemnly, expecting that to be the end of it. He’s caught off guard when Keith crosses the room to him again and kneels beside the bed by his knees, not initiating anything, but simply resting his cheek against his thigh and staring up at him. Lance smiles down at him, giving him an idle scratch behind the ear. He arches up into it like he’s desperate for the attention and Lance feels a pang of sympathy. Truth be told, he hasn’t even asked Keith about what he’s going through right now, he had so many other things on his mind. 

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Keith says suddenly, wrenching himself away forcibly like he needs to do it then or risk not being able to later. Lance finds that he immediately misses the closeness, as Keith scrambles to his feet and starts backing away. “Goodnight, little red. Stay safe.”

And with that, Keith dips out of the room and leaves Lance sprawled across the bed alone, dishevelled and lost in thought. The minutes pass him by and he makes no effort to pick himself up and compose himself, he just stays exactly where he is and thinks back on the sensation of Keith on top of him, Keith beneath his hands, Keith between his legs. Fuck. 

Somehow, the distance between them is doing absolutely nothing to make Lance’s brain think clearer. Rationality is evading him now more than ever, as he finds himself missing Keith’s presence. They’ve barely seen each other in the better part of two weeks, of course Lance had missed him terribly during that time. He’d just been determined to get through it because it was the only way, his only option, and he wasn’t going to go back on his promise to Keith.

Only now that he understands a little bit better, he realizes that staying apart and keeping his distance wasn’t the only option at all. There is another option, one with an arguably better outcome for both parties involved, and the only thing standing in Lance’s way is himself. And for what reason? Keith had said in plain terms that he had no hang-ups and that he was certain about this, and Lance certainly wants it, he isn’t afraid of Keith in the slightest even in his current state… So what's stopping him?

The more Lance tries to find his answer, the more clear it becomes that there _ isn’t  _ one.

He wants Keith. Keith _ clearly _ wants him. Does it  _ have  _ to be any more complicated than that?

With his mind freshly made up, Lance gets to his feet and brushes his hair back from his eyes. He looks around the room, tries to think of anything he might need when he sets out on his journey outside again. He’s definitely taking the knife with him, but aside from that… well, Keith will be there soon enough to protect him from any threats, there’s no use looking for a better weapon he won’t even need.

Then there’s the other question of whether there’s anything he’s going to need for when he gets what he’s after. He doesn’t imagine Keith will be particularly patient when Lance finally finds him, not now that it’s nearly an hour later and the moon is high overhead, shining brightly through the clouds. It wouldn’t necessarily be _ unwise _ to prepare himself in advance while he has the chance… It's Keith’s first time doing this and he’s not going to have much restraint about him, if his earlier behavior was any indicator to how the rest of the night will play out.

It’s a strange experience finding a body-safe oil substance to use to ready himself in his abuelita’s ransacked house, but he figures this is probably what he signed up for when he decided to go and get involved with the wolf his mother had always warned him about. It’s a stranger process still fingering himself open in the tiny guest bedroom bed he’s slept in so many times over the years, with the bite and claw marks on his body still stinging with Keith’s memory. It’s almost embarrassing how much Lance doesn’t struggle to work himself up once he gets his hands on himself. He’s supposed to be the rational one, the one with control and restraint to spare when clearly Keith has none.

But by the time he finds himself prepped enough to brave the wilderness outside, his cock is pathetically hard in his smallclothes and straining against his confines in a way that even a cape as oversized as his couldn’t hope to distract from. He wonders if Keith will be able to smell it on him long before they run into each other, if he’ll smell his arousal on the air and scent him out like a bitch in heat.

As he sets out on the path again, he doesn’t find himself lingering on every shadow, every shift of movement in the trees. Instead he focuses on himself, on his walk as he struts confidently through the forest, head held high and hood propped around his head like a halo of red. His shirt is untucked and his boots are still soaked through, but the smile he wears is entirely too pleased with himself all the same.

This time, when he feels the sensation of being watched, he doesn’t pick up speed or stop to look behind himself. He stays entirely focused on the path ahead, grinning devilishly to himself, and even reaches up to lower his hood and show off the curve of his bruised and bitten neck in the moonlight. He hears a distant rumble behind him and he’s not sure whether it’s something pleased or possessively angry, but he still doesn’t look back to confirm it one way or the other. He’s enjoying the chase too much, and he isn’t even really running yet.

He makes it a good distance down the path before eventually growing curious and looking over his shoulder, surprised to find an utter lack of eyes staring back at him in the darkness. He pauses, coming to a full stop, and looks around the forest in search of his pursuer. He furrows his eyebrows together in confusion, his heart beginning to beat a little faster.

“Keith?” Lance calls out, his voice a soft and lilting thing. There is no response from the shadows and he feels the slightest bit irked by that. He knows Keith must have been following him earlier, he’s sure of it, he definitely heard the heavy footsteps behind him. Unless… unless it was someone else. Another wolf. 

He wonders if the plain bloodied outline of a bite on his neck would keep another wolf from touching him, if it’s a straightforward way for Keith to tell everyone else to back off because this human is already claimed by another. Lance reaches up, tracing his fingertips over the wound and wincing slightly.

Again, he’s sure he hears a low and quiet growl from the bushes. His lips curl upward into a content little smile and he drops his hand, looking in the direction of the noise. “Are you just going to watch me all night? I thought we were  _ past _ the stage of you admiring me from afar, stalking me like a dog to a rabbit.”

This time, the growl is unmistakable, and the ground seems to _ shake _ with it.

Lance doesn’t feel like backing down though, his confidence only seems to grow now that he knows Keith is actually looking at him and is watching the show he’s putting on. He grins, reaching up to the clasp of his hood and gently winding his fingers through the loops of the bow. 

“You know, Keith, between the two of us… I don’t think you could catch me.” Lance drawls slowly, taking a swaggering step closer to the trees. He stops in front of the source of the noise and though it’s far too dark for him to actually see anything in the darkness, he’s sure that he can feel the heat radiating off of Keith’s body. Still, he doesn’t reach out to touch. “If I could outrun that other wolf on four legs, well, I don’t think  _ you’d  _ be much of a challenge at all.”

It’s a taunt. It isn’t even a particularly good one, it’s obvious and transparent, almost to the point of being obnoxiously tactless. Not that he has to worry about coming across as too desperate when it’s Keith he’s talking to right now. Keith who takes the bait like a man starved, predictably quick to rise to the challenge. A familiar set of eyes emerge from the bushes to blink at him a moment later and Lance grins widely, all too proud to have his plan work so well.

“There you are.” Lance cooes, extending a hand to place it on the center of his chest, as if that alone would actually be enough to hold him back if he was determined to approach. This time when Keith growls, he feels it, feels the strong muscles trembling beneath his palm. Lance grins back at him, biting his plush bottom lip in thought. “What do you say we make a wager,  _ puppy _ ?”

Keith doesn’t respond with words, but he does bring his hands up to hold Lance’s where it rests on his chest, over the beating pound of his heartbeat. Lance isn’t sure if it’s meant to be a comforting gesture or if Keith has intentions of holding him there so he can’t pull away, but he continues regardless.

“If I can outrun you and make it back to my mother’s house, then you have to do _ all  _ of the baking for the rest of the year. Every single week. It’ll be  _ your _ job to make the apple tarts, the cookies, the biscuits.” It’s not that he particularly  _ minds  _ baking, in fact most of the reason he does it at all is because he values and loves the family tradition. But, if he’s being perfectly honest, he thinks he might love to get Keith involved even more. He’d probably still end up doing most of the work, but the idea of Keith standing in a tiny kitchen, with baking mitts on his clawed hands, and an apron covering his hairy chest… it’s too much. Lance needs to make it a reality.

“And if I win?” Keith asks then, surprising Lance with the sound of his voice. He’d thought that maybe Keith was past the point of talking, but aside from the deep and scratchy rumble that the words come out in, they’re certainly understandable. With that, Keith lifts his hand where he’s holding it, bringing it to his mouth and flipping it over to place a kiss to his wrist. He holds Lance’s gaze all the while, the corner of his lips twitching upward, until he’s full-on grinning, sharp teeth pressed against Lance’s soft skin. Lance swallows hard.

“Well, I _ suppose  _ you could do anything you wanted with your prize.” Lance says then, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, like he isn’t offering much of anything at all. Keith definitely understands though, eyes alight with burning shades of yellow and orange, completely trained on Lance’s neck where his bite is still stinging from earlier. “Seems only fair. If you catch it, it should be yours to do with what you will.”

“ _ Oh _ , the things I’m gonna do to you.” Keith says then, eyes narrowing. “Go on, then. Let’s play chase.”

Lance lights up into a grin at getting his way, gently pulling his hand free of Keith’s grip. It almost surprises him when Keith lets him go without any struggle, instead dropping his hands back to his side and rocking back on his heels, further into the shadows of the trees. Lance turns around to peer back the way he came, then bites at the inside of his cheek while he debates his options. 

“Yeah? Should I start n-” Lance starts to ask, only to be interrupted by a harsh slap to his ass. There’s so much weight behind it that he stumbles forward on shaky legs with a breathless little gasp, hands coming back to clasp over his backside protectively. He looks at Keith in shock, an amused chuckle slipping out despite himself as he gapes at the other man. “What the hell was _ that  _ for?!”

“I’m giving you the benefit of a head start.” Keith tells him then, with a wicked grin. “Don’t waste it.”

“I don’t _ need  _ a headstart, you-” Lance tries to protest, mostly to be difficult, only to be silenced by a growl that quickly becomes something more. It’s a howl, if anything, with the way it bellows out of Keith and echoes through the quiet forest around them. Lance stumbles backward in surprise, feeling his first shiver of apprehension run down his spine, wondering if perhaps he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

“Run!” Keith all but roars, and Lance really does not need to be told twice this time. He turns on his heel and bolts, as fast as his legs can carry him, just like he had earlier that night. 

Initially, he tries his best to stick to the path like always. It makes the most sense if he’s trying to get back to his mother’s house, which he insists he is, only the further he runs the more he starts to lose sight of why he wants to win at all. With Keith at his back and his cock damningly hard inside his trousers, it’s hard to think of anything that’d be better than getting caught and having Keith ravish him in the dirt.

It’s hard to stick to the path anyway without a lantern, so when he sees a thin stretch of trees and Keith is right at his heels… he veers off-course and takes to the forest for cover. He has no lantern so he runs blindly and hopes for the best, allowing the moonlight to be his guide as he weaves through the trees. It could be his downfall or his advantage, because surely it’ll slow Keith down as well.

More than once, Keith gets close enough to grab at him and it has Lance stumbling, laughing high and reedy in the back of his throat before spinning effortlessly out of his grip and continuing on his way.

At one point, he trips over a root and he’s sure he’s done for, but when Keith catches up to him he only watches him from behind a nearby tree. There’s something ominous in the way he lurks there, watching and waiting, like he’s enjoying the chase too much to end it when Lance won’t be able to put up much of a struggle at all. So Lance scrambles back to his feet and takes off again, even though he’s exhausted to his core and he doesn’t really care about the bet at all anymore. 

He can’t help but realize that he’s enjoying this too, the thrill of being pursued, the adrenaline of fighting a plainly losing game. Also the simple knowledge that he’s riling Keith more the longer it goes on, to the point that when he’s finally caught he has one hell of a takedown waiting on him. It’s addictive.

Eventually though, Lance runs out of energy and his lungs are absolutely burning from all the exertion, so he has no choice but to let his steps slow. Then, soon, come to a complete stop. 

He collapses against a tree, panting so raggedly that his entire body shudders with each breath. He presses his face to the bark, uncaring of the scratchy uncomfortable texture, and lets his eyes fall closed for just a moment, only a moment. They snap open in the seconds following when a low, threatening growl emanates from the bushes nearby. Lance presses himself back flat against the tree, turning his head from side to side, trying to find where the noise is coming from and failing.

Lance doesn’t need to see him to know that it’s Keith though, he can tell from the quiet labored breathing, the lightness of his footsteps, the keening whine that he lets out when Lance’s legs give out and he slides down the tree trunk to settle in the grass.

So there Lance sits, aware of Keith’s eyes on him but not aware of where he’s being watched from, and a terrible idea forms in his mind. It’s not like he can get back up and start running again, he knows he can’t, he’s exhausted his body past that point no matter what Keith wants from him. He can, however, continue the chase from exactly where he sits… if he’s smart about it.

He tips his head back against the tree and closes his eyes, bringing a hand down to settle between his legs, over the clothed outline of his cock through his trousers. A shaky curse slips past his lips as his hips automatically buck up into the touch, seeking the much-needed friction after working himself up so terribly and ignoring it all this time. He squeezes his cock, rubbing and palming at it, until he’s leaking pre-cum into his underwear and fighting the strong urge to start undressing to get his hands on himself properly. He wonders if that’d be taking this game a step too far.

Since he started to touch himself, Keith has been uncharacteristically quiet. A fleeting concern passes over him that maybe it hadn’t been Keith watching him from the shadows, that it could have been any old wolf that caught scent of him and decided to come inspect the potential prey… only for him to double-over in the dirt and start getting himself off. He wonders what he’d look like right now to anyone else, flushed and panting from pushing himself so hard, his clothes hanging loose off his frame and his hair a wispy mess atop his head, with his hand hastily shoving its way inside his pants.

When that proves too much of a struggle, and Keith still doesn’t emerge to take it over, Lance pops the button of his trousers and starts shoving them down the length of his legs. He kicks them off and tosses them unceremoniously into the bushes, before settling back down in the grass and shoving a hand under the waistband of his underwear. He can’t help the moan he lets out when he finally wraps his hand around his cock, he doesn’t care anymore who’s watching or how easy he looks.

He keeps waiting for Keith to appear at any given moment, to tear his hands off of himself and force him into submission, but it never happens. He’s left infuriatingly to his own devices, as he continues to stroke his cock, fast but nowhere near as fast he normally would if he was simply trying to get himself off. As it is, whenever he gets anywhere near close enough to actually finish, he’s forced to slow down until he’s barely holding his cock in his palm and feeling it twitch needily. And he knows that wherever Keith is watching him from, he has a front-row seat to the show and to the torture Lance is putting himself through as he waits for him. The bastard is definitely enjoying it, enjoying making Lance wait for it.

When Lance pulls his underwear off, it’s a move made mostly out of spite. His cape is resting underneath him anyway so it’s not like he’s settled on his bare ass in the dirt, he’s just… infinitely more exposed than he’d been before. But if he wants to entice Keith to actually make a move, he’s clearly gonna have to be more inviting. He slumps low, until he’s practically laying on his back, and continues to stroke his cock where it stands tall and on display between his widespread legs.

Only now, he brings his other hand down between them to trace a finger across his rim where it’s exposed to the cool night air, still covered in a thin sheen of slick from when he’d fingered himself open.

He sinks one finger into himself and throws his head back, legs kicking out at the sensation of being filled again. It’s nowhere near what his body wants, not after being promised so much more, but it’s a substitute for the time being and he knows that Keith can only hold out so long when he wants this just as badly. All he has to do is play his cards right from here.

And he does, in his humble opinion. He puts on a show for his voyueristic lover, too far gone for an ounce of shame to follow him through it. One hand works the length of his cock, jerking himself off with a loose fist, not quite enough stimulation to reach his end but enough to keep himself hovering near the edge. In the meantime, he works two fingers into himself and hitches them upward, trying in vain to rub up against the place inside of himself that’ll have the last of his filter disappearing. Every now and then he manages to just barely tease at what he needs, and each and every time it has him crying out Keith’s name into the dark of the night.

When Keith finally pounces on him, his eyes are screwed so tightly shut and he’s so deaf to anything other than his own moans ringing in his ears, he has absolutely no time to prepare himself for it.

One moment he’s laying on his back in the grass touching himself, and the next Keith has his claws all but dug into the flesh of his hips and is hoisting up him into the air like he weighs nothing at all. Even with the rough treatment, all Lance feels is a strong wave of relief washing over him, that he isn’t going to be left waiting all night when he wants nothing more than to be fucked properly.

He immediately forgets about touching himself, instead bringing his hands up to Keith’s shoulders for support, desperately clinging onto him now that they’re finally together again.

“You’re a fucking _ tease _ , red.” Keith growls out, slamming his back against the tree with enough force to send a pleasant ache down the base of his spine, but gentle enough that he knows Keith isn’t his full strength and it won’t do any lasting damage. Even like this, Keith seems to have his wits about him enough to care for Lance’s general well-being. A part of Lance can’t help but feel curious though, about what exactly it’d look like to see Keith completely lost to his wolf, completely out of control.

“Oh, thank god.” Lance sighs, as Keith ducks his head to sink his teeth into Lance’s shoulder. The pain is a welcome distraction from the heat that’s settled low in his gut and the throb of his cock where it’s pressed to Keith’s hip. He’s desperate for it already, his entire body alight with need. But Keith is here now, and he has no doubt in his mind that he’s gonna get everything he needs and more, so all he has to do is  _ hold out a little longer. _

He tips his head back to rest against the tree, slides his hands across the plane of Keith’s back for purchase, digging his nails into the toned flesh. Keith hisses back at him and bites down where his shoulder meets his neck, but Lance hardly even feels the pain, not in a way that doesn’t feel like pleasure anyway. His hips stutter forward, the head of his cock following the line of Keith’s hipbone. 

“Fucking yourself open for the whole forest to watch, so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“You were starting to scare me, I thought I might have been putting on a show for someone else.”

“You  _ should  _ be scared.” Keith snarls back at him, claws digging into the meat of his thighs and spreading them wider still, until Keith is pressing him to the tree with the full weight of his body. Lance can hardly move a muscle, even to breathe, as Keith slowly and purposely rocks their hips together. Lance is suddenly made jarringly aware of the fact that Keith is naked as their cocks slide wetly together, and that his cock easily dwarfs Lance’s in size, nearly doubling it. Lance feels just a shred of apprehension, but it’s forgotten just as quickly when Keith grinds against him again. “Do you even know what you’re asking for, you pretty little thing? I don’t think you do. I’m going to  _ ruin  _ you.”

“I don’t care. Give it to me. I want it.” Lance insists, bringing one of his hands around to cup Keith’s jaw, turning it upward so they can lock eyes. Like this, they’re close enough that Lance can see the war playing out behind those golden irises, can see the struggle he’s actually going through to hold himself back when he wants nothing more than to bury his cock into Lance and _ use him _ . 

Lance leans forward and presses their lips together, ignoring the metallic taste of his own blood that seems to linger in Keith’s mouth. He kisses him hard, fingers curling into his dark hair and pulling him closer. Keith gives as good as he gets, meeting him with the same enthusiasm, pressing him back into the tree and rutting against him with shaky little thrusts of his hips forward. Lance moans into his mouth, pulling back to look at him through heavily-lidded eyes. “I want _ you _ .”

“You’re sure?” Keith asks him then, a flash of teeth showing in a smirk before he’s just as quick to chase it away. He licks his lips instead, a breathless laugh slipping past them. “I might be… rough, with you.”

Lance gets the feeling that that’s the understatement of the century, but he isn’t about to call Keith out on it when he looks so very torn already, like he’s losing the battle. Instead, he kisses him again, gentler this time as he leisurely explores Keith’s mouth with his tongue, hands cupping his face protectively as they pull apart. Lance grins back at him, wide and unabashed, and nods his head with certainty.

“ _ Ruin me, _ Keith.” Lance whispers back, winking at him. “I want it. I promise.”

After that, urgency clouds everything they do, the final thread of Keith’s self-control seemingly pulled taut and snapped. His hands on Lance’s hips are heavy as he maneuvers him around, wraps him close around his body and lines his cock up, rubbing the head of it against where Lance is open and loose, so ready to be stuffed full. Only, Keith doesn’t immediately spear him on his cock, instead he keeps teasing him with just the head, pressing it in just enough for Lance’s body to flutter to accommodate the stretch, and then retreating. Over and over again, until Lance is clinging to his shoulders and limply leaning against him for support, whining all the while.

“What brought on the change of heart?” Keith asks, eventually, and it takes Lance a full thirty seconds to come back to himself enough to manage the words to respond to the question. He realizes now that Keith isn’t teasing _ just  _ for the sake of teasing, that he’s still looking for more reassurance that Lance has really, genuinely changed his mind about wanting this. Lance smiles at him, affection and fondness no doubt radiating off of him as he leans in and kisses Keith on the jaw.

“Got lonely without you.” Lance whispers, kissing up the length of his jawbone, until he can take Keith’s earlobe gently between his teeth and tease him with a quiet whisper. “And, if I’m being honest, my fingers weren’t enough to satisfy the craving. I figured you might be able to help me out with that.”

“Fuck.” Keith wheezes, like the word’s been punched out of him. With that, his hand gripping Lance’s hip tightens, nails puncturing skin and drawing five equal droplets of blood to the surface. And then he’s pushing his cock inside of Lance again, this time unrelenting as he forces it deeper and deeper inside. It earns a constant stream of whimpers and whines from Lance, as he squirms against him to shift the position, to make the stretch easier on himself somehow. It doesn’t change how huge Keith is though, even with his thorough stretching it’s still pushing his limits. “Such a slutty little mate, what would you have done if another wolf had found you first? Hm?”

At the very least, Keith is making a very conscious effort to control himself while Lance adjusts to his size, but there’s no denying the way he’s practically vibrating on the spot, his hips occasionally lurching forward on their own accord and shoving his cock in another unprecedented inch. Each time it punches a moan out of Lance and Keith quickly kisses him quiet, gentle and reassuring about it.

“They wouldn’t have, I doubt you let me out of your sight even after you left.” Lance gasps, tipping his head back and swallowing down cool, night air. Keith must be bottomed out inside of him by now,  _ right _ ?

“But if they had? Would you let them take you apart like this? Let them have you?”

“Of course not.” Lance answers immediately, straightening up to look at him. “There’s only you, Keith.” 

With that, Keith snarls, something plainly boastful and smug in his expression. Lance doesn’t even have time to prepare before Keith is abruptly pulling Lance’s hips down against him and thrusting up in the same instance. This time Lance knows he’s taken it all because he can _ feel _ Keith’s hipbones pressed to his ass. Much like how he can  _ feel  _ Keith’s cock everywhere inside of him, filling him up past the point he’d thought possible, until he’s sure he can feel it in the back of his fucking throat. 

Fuck. He’s never taken anyone so big.

Nevermind when Keith starts to move almost immediately, like he can’t possibly wait another second for it. He fucks Lance hard and fast, snapping his hips forward with brutal force behind his thrusts. He buries himself to the hilt over and over again, so quick that Lance hardly has a chance to catch his breath against the onslaught of pleasure. The pain, thankfully, quickly ebbs away when Lance realizes that Keith’s cock rubs up against him in all the right ways, completely abusing his prostate with each thrust in.

It’s all the more clear that Keith has never done this before now, with the pace he’s set it’s just not possible that either one of them is going to last very long. He’s eager as he presses Lance up against the tree and fucks him like it’s both his first and last opportunity to.

It’s all Lance can do to hold on for dear life, blunt nails digging into the tree bark, or dark tangled hair, the muscle of Keith’s back. Nothing seems to hold him steady, not even Keith’s grip on his thighs. He’s simply along for the ride, so he gives up and instead loses himself to it, concentrating on the pleasure Keith is carelessly forcing him through. There is no reprieve, Keith fucks him so thoroughly that he feels like he’s drowning in it. 

Lance’s orgasm slams into him with no warning and no build-up, not when the entire act so far has just been a constant assault on his senses. He comes with a shout, the quiet of the forest disturbed by his primal cry. He reaches down to jerk himself through it as an afterthought, deciding that the friction of his cockhead rubbing against Keith’s abdomen isn’t near enough. He fists his cock clumsily, spilling in streaks across Keith’s stomach and his own knuckles. 

It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before, being fucked through his orgasm without any care for his sensitive state at all. If anything, Keith seems to grow more feral as the smell of Lance’s release rises in the air, the atmosphere between them already muggy with sweat and sex.

Lance is still trembling through the aftershocks of it when Keith’s hand drops from his thigh and instead slams against the tree over his head, enough for a sickening crack to form from somewhere within the tree’s trunk. At that point, Keith gets a grip on him and lifts him away from the tree, slipping out of his loose and sloppy hole as they change positions.

Keith lowers them both and they tumble into the grass together, Keith’s teeth nipping playfully at the hollow of Lance’s throat. Lance laughs and giggles as he’s manhandled onto his hands and knees, made to present his ass like an offering. As soon as he’s in a position Keith approves of, Lance finds himself abruptly filled again, Keith’s massive cock bullying its way inside of him again. He’s so sensitive that it really does ache, his entire body feeling tense as he’s fucked open again so soon, before he’s ready for it.

The only saving grace is that Keith seems to be close, finally. He’s lasted longer than Lance figured he would, given this is his first time and he has seemingly no control over himself. It’s obvious now that it’s coming to an end though, from the way he’s trembling where he’s hunched over Lance’s back, to the way his hips are hardly retreating from the warm clutch of Lance’s body at all before snapping forward again.

The noises Keith makes from that point on are all wolf, from growls to animalistic grunts.

“Gonna come.” Keith bites out, not slowing the steady flex of his hips at all, starting to pound into Lance from behind with so much force that Lance’s legs are struggling to support him against it. He doesn’t dare move though, he stays kneeling in the dirt with his hips arched up, letting Keith take him exactly as furiously as he feels he needs to. He’s not sure anymore if the overstimulation is the worst or best thing he’s ever experienced, all he knows is that it’ll be a relief when it’s finally over.

“Fuck, Keith, hurry up.” Lance whines, rubbing his cheek against the grass, struggling to keep from drooling all over himself with how gone he is. He can’t compose himself, and there’s no use trying when Keith is still ploughing him from behind. With each well-aimed thrust inside of him, Lance’s mind momentarily leaves him all over again, pleasure so intense it’s painful shooting through his body and begging his cock to harden again. It can’t. He can’t. It’s too fucking soon, no matter what his body wants, it’s just not on the table no matter how Keith tries to force it out of him. “It’s too much! I can’t take it, I-”

“If you think this is too much, I’d hate to see how you’re gonna react when I give you my knot.” Keith grunts back at him, the steady rock of his hips slowing to a grind, buried fully inside of Lance and relishing it. Lance is a couple seconds late registering what Keith’s said, but by then he’s already painstakingly aware of how Keith suddenly feels so much bigger inside of him. 

“Your  _ knot _ ?” Lance gives a vaguely disgruntled noise, a whimper of sorts, and tries to squirm forward to relent some of the pressure against his prostate. But Keith follows him, until he’s pressed prone to the grass, nowhere to go but to take it as Keith presses against his ass with more force. There are sharp teeth at the nape of his neck, as if to warn him, but he doesn’t have any intention of running anyway at this point. A sick part of him is curious of just how far he can stretch his limits. 

“That’s right, baby, my  _ knot _ . Gonna give it to you, force it inside of your tight little cunt whether it wants to fit or not. You’ll feel so good around it, all warm and wet, fuck. Such a pretty mate, such a good bitch.”

“Oh, fuck, it’s  _ huge _ .”

“Stay still and _ take it _ .”

“It’s not gonna fit.” Lance argues, even as he listens and stays very still, arching his hips up into it and earning a pleased rumble from behind him. Keith’s knot continues to grow, stretching him even further, locking them together in preparation for him to finish inside his mate. And Lance does his best to take it, fingers digging into the dirt, jaw slack where his mouth hangs open to gasp for air. Keith doesn’t seem to be faring much better, if the myriad of grunts and growls kicking up behind him are anything to judge by, growing louder as he loses himself to it. “Fuck, Keith, I don’t think I c-”

“Gonna give you my seed, get you nice and knocked up, fuck you full of my pups.” Keith mumbles, kissing across the notches of his spine, continuing to give quick, rocking thrusts into Lance’s body. He fucks into Lance with a single minded determination now, his own pleasure forgotten and dismissed as a secondary priority to plugging Lance up and making sure the breeding _ takes _ . “You want that, right? Wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you? So spread your legs and take it. I know you can.”

The knot keeps filling out and stretching Lance impossibly wider, and with every passing second he’s sure that he won’t be able to take anymore, but his body somehow keeps managing. Behind him, Keith has taken to whining, a needy and broken noise as he feels himself slowly falling over the edge. Lance reaches back behind himself to try and land a hand in his hair, to stroke soothingly through it, but instead he ends up grabbing one of Keith’s ears and the reaction is instantaneous.

Keith goes  _ rigid _ against him, then just as suddenly ducks his head forward and bites down on Lance’s neck in the same place as before. Lance cries out, but there’s no use thrashing, so he stays perfectly still and grits his teeth through it. Beneath him, he’s fairly sure his cock is hard again, pressed into the grass and straining for friction, but unable to chase any when he’s pinned so thoroughly. He’s not sure what that says about him, that he’s getting off on this, on being bitten and pinned down by Keith when he’s little more than an unhinged beast.

When Keith finally starts to come, knot locking him inside and making sure every single drop spills into Lance’s body, there is no hope in hell of Lance  _ not  _ feeling it. It shoots from his cock in thick streaks, searing hot where it sprays against Lance’s walls, already sensitive from such a thorough fucking. And it doesn’t stop, as the seconds tick by into minutes, Keith stays utterly silent where he’s draped over him and keeps fucking coming. Lance is sure he must be as full as he can get by now, surely, there’s no way that aother fucking drop will fit unless Keith’s knot gives and it bursts like a dam. He feels… fuck, he feels fucking pregnant, his belly is so heavy and full with it.

Keith had warned him. He just… had  _ maybe _ underestimated the extent of it.

And god dammit, he’d definitely underestimated how much he’d  _ like it _ . His cock is definitely hard, there’s no denying it now, it’s twitching where it’s pressed between his stomach and the ground, weakly blurting pre-cum from the tip. He has no idea how long Keith will be lost to his orgasm so he has no idea how long he has to wait like this, embarrassingly full and achingly hard, with no relief in sight from either. 

He closes his eyes, takes deep breaths, and tries to adjust to the feeling of being so utterly  _ stuffed _ .

Truth be told, he’s not sure how much time passes after that, he completely loses track. It’s a shame too, given it’d probably be nice to know for future reference exactly how long it takes for Keith’s knot to go down. But it’s hard to think straight in the state he’s in, so he can’t really blame himself.

“You okay?” Keith’s voice startles Lance out of the haze he’d been drifting into and he comes back to himself suddenly, eyes comically wide when he shifts and feels the amount of liquid inside of him shift with him. Keith’s knot is still pressed tight inside of him, keeping everything inside, but Lance knows that if it wasn’t there’d be a flood of cum threatening to spill out. He hasn’t been with many men, but he’s absolutely certain that that’s not normal for any human. Will it be like this every time?

Lance shakes himself out of his stupor and remembers he needs to respond to Keith’s question.

“I think so. Holy shit.” Lance chuckles, trying to shift and get more comfortable only to immediately think better of it. He’s not going anywhere without a lot of cooperation on Keith’s end, and Keith seems a little boneless behind him, like he doesn’t have it in him to lift his head from Lance’s back, let alone move the rest of his body. So Lance just slumps against the ground and buries his face into his arms, focusing on the feeling of fullness. “Fuck. You were right, you’ve ruined me, no one else will ever be enough for me.”

“Good.” Keith chuckles, kissing across the nape of his neck, nuzzling into the short hair at the back of his head. Lance grins into his arms, basking in the attention. Keith’s hands take to smoothing up and down his sides then, mindful of all the scratches they’d left behind, featherlight and gentle where his fingertips trace over each of Lance’s ribs. “Hey, what do you think your mother would say if she saw you like this? A wolf’s bitch despite all the warnings. You just couldn’t resist. You risked everything for this, to be fucked full, so eager to be bred.”

“Fuck off.” Lance laughs, squirming purposely and tugging on the knot, and the noise that Keith lets out in response is akin to a howl for sure. It’s playful though, especially when Keith doubles back down on him and pushes him into the ground harder, chuckling into his hair. And Lance relaxes into it, eyes feeling heavy as he lets them fall closed. He’s confident that Keith will protect him no matter what comes their way, so maybe he’ll just drift off and take a little nap in the forest under the blanket of moonlight.

… And Keith’s body, which is a very _ weighted _ blanket indeed.

When Lance wakes up a while later, he doesn’t feel very rested at all and the moon is still high overhead, but Keith’s knot has gone down at some point because Lance can’t deny he feels decidedly empty by comparison to before. The night air is cool against his backside and his thighs where his skin is covered in a slick mess of cum and oil, so he draws his legs underneath himself and shivers. He reaches for his cape and pulls it back over himself as a cover, looking around for Keith.

He’s not far off, he’s curled on his side next to Lance. He looks mostly asleep, but his tail is wagging behind him, and his ears are perked upright and alert. Lance quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Are you awake or just having a nice dream?”

“What dream could be nicer than this?” Keith relies without missing a beat, eyes slowly fluttering open to stare up at Lance. He sits up and advances on him immediately, bringing their mouths together in a rough and clashing kiss. Lance grins into it, his chest feeling inexplicably full. “I was waiting for you to wake up. Figured you’d need any rest you could get.”

“For what? Round two?” Lance jokes, only to immediately regret it when something bashful passes over Keith’s face. Understanding dawns on Lance and he quickly reaches out, cupping Keith’s face between his hands and quietly shushing him before he can work himself up. “You’re serious? Again?  _ Already _ ?”

“I  _ need _ it.” Keith’s voice breaks around the whine, something akin to a sob slipping past his lips instead, cracking and raw, and Lance isn’t sure if he’s more relieved or mortified that it’s not over yet. He can’t deny that he’s still interested, though his body aches already and he’s sure he won’t be able to walk tomorrow at this rate, his cock has already filled out again and is begging for attention. Who is he to deny himself when it’s being offered so plainly? When Keith _ needs _ him?

He wonders exactly how many times Keith will have to take him tonight, or even in the coming weeks before the season is over, in order to be satisfied. Is this what he has to look forward to for the rest of spring? Is he going to be kept like this, on his hands and knees in the dirt and made to present, plugged full around a thick knot, cum dripping down the insides of his thighs, a breeding bitch for Keith to take his instincts out on? And a better question: why doesn’t that ignite any sort-of fear in Lance?

All he fears is a low burning lust that shows no sign of fading anytime soon.

“Fine. You won fair and square.” Lance sighs, like it’s a great hardship for him, like he isn’t fairly certain he’s just discovered that he’s infinitely more kinky than he ever could have guessed. He gets back into position, ignores the cooling cum that slips out of him and trails down the inside of his thigh. There will be more to replace it soon. “Do what you will.”

He’s not, however, expecting Keith to dive forward and bury his face between his cheeks to clean up his mess with his tongue. Not that he’s complaining, because he’s definitely not, though it might sound like it to the untrained ear walking through the forest when they hear Lance’s wailing. God, he’s never been so loud in his life as when Keith is licking him open and toying with his rim with that devilish tongue.

\-- 

Keith doesn’t actually keep him there, in the middle of the woods, for the entirety of spring. 

They spend most of the next day in that same clearing indulging in each other, but eventually Keith’s protective instincts kick in and he can’t justify being out in the open with other wolves and hunters around. They head back to his abuelita’s cabin and find it still unoccupied, so they decide to stay there and ride out the rest of the season. Somehow, miraculously, the only casualty they experience over the next couple weeks is the poor guest bed that all but crumbles beneath their furious coupling.

Toward the end of it, Keith even takes him back to Shiro and Adam’s den to introduce him, practically vibrating with excitement beside him the entire time. They’re skeptical at first though they don’t say as much, Lance can see it in their eyes. But Keith is nothing if not determined to convince them, and by the end of the day spent together, they’re all talking like old friends and sharing stories.

When Lance inevitably goes back home to see his mother and abuelita again, they take one look at the beaten and bruised and bitten state he’s in and immediately assume the worst. He has to fight to speak over their furious shouting and be heard, to insist that he’s fine, that he’s just been… staying with a friend for a while. They don’t seem completely convinced, but he begs and begs them not to go to the hunters, and they trust him enough to listen to that at least.

As for the rest, he’s sure he’ll tell them the full truth of it eventually.

They have just as much to share with him anyway, as they inform him his abuelita has decided to move in full-time. And Lance can’t help but think about the cabin that’ll be abandoned in the woods, the cabin that he and Keith have shared so many good memories in already. He doesn’t want to see it rot into the ground, unrepaired, forgotten to time. In fact, he wouldn’t mind living there. He could come back and forth each day to see his other, but he’d be far enough into the woods that maybe Keith might want to… stay there with him. A home for the both of them.

\--

They don’t really plan for the day that they tell Lance’s mother about their relationship, it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you can schedule in advance. It’s meant to happen when it feels right, when it comes naturally to them. The day that all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place starts just like any other, with Lance sneaking out in the early hours of the morning to meet Keith in the trees. 

It’s not a weekly thing anymore, but rather a daily one. His abuelita had eagerly agreed to his idea of living in her old cabin so he’s been heading there every single day to work on it, to repair shattered windows and clawed doors, and to start shaping the interior into a place he can see himself living.

It’s on their walk back that their usual meeting length is cut short by a good hour. Where normally they’d take their time on the way back, reluctant to part ways for the night, today they aren’t given much of a choice when the skies above open up and pour buckets of rain down onto them. Lance’s clothes end up soaked and clinging to his skin, while Keith’s hair grows curly and unruly in the downpour, until he looks like a particularly shaggy dog more than anything else. It’s the most endearing thing Lance has ever seen and he can’t help but ignore the beginnings of hypothermia threatening him, instead pressing Keith up against the nearest tree and kissing him until they’re both smiling too hard to really continue.

And when they eventually pull apart again, shivering where they cling to each other, their eyes meet and Lance feels a wave of instant realization sweep over him.

“Hey.” Lance whispers, leaning forward to press their foreheads together, brushing his thumbs across the length of Keith’s sharp cheekbones and streaking rainwater across his skin as he goes. Keith leans eagerly into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Lance can’t help but admire the tiny water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes, his heart feeling heavy and full in his chest. “I think we should introduce you to my family today. What do you think about that?”

Lance can tell very clearly what Keith thinks about that, simply from how he tenses up in his hands, his bottom lip poking out in a pout and showing off his lower fang teeth. Still, Keith does eventually answer without any prompting, just a hell of a lot of hesitation.

“I guess… we _ could _ do that. If you really want to.”

“I’ve met your family, it only seems fair.”

“My family doesn’t actively hate the species that you are.” Keith mutters, but it’s not the start of an argument as much of a gentle admission of feelings. Lance sees right through it, sees the underlying anxiety causing his reluctance. He has nothing against Lance’s abuelita or his mother, he only fears the power they have to come between them. 

“It’s gonna be okay, they’re gonna love you.” Lance insists, reaching up to brush Keith’s hair back from his face, then admittedly getting distracted and scratching behind his wolf ears instead. Keith hardly minds, as his ears twitch excitedly under the attention, and a pleased sigh escapes his lips. “Eventually. They’ll love you eventually. I’m sure of it. I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and _ not _ love you.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is for some to hate what they don’t understand.” Keith says, voice full of resignation that Lance can hardly stomach to hear. He knows now that Keith ran into humans before him, humans that weren’t nearly as quick to change their mind about him. Humans that hurt him, chased him from his home, took his parents from him. Keith has every reason to be skeptical of humans.

Lance grabs his hands between his and squeezes them encouragingly.

“You don’t have to, but I think you should give them a chance. They may have been fed lies their entire lives, but they’re not stupid. They’re the smartest women I know. No one could look at you and believe that you’re the same beast described in those dramatic made-up horror stories.”

“I’m sure your abuelita will understand, she’s lived in the woods her whole life, she must know more than she lets on about the creatures that lived there with her. But what if your mother forbids me from ever seeing you again?” Keith says, softly, voice full of genuine anxiety.

“Then we won’t listen.” Lance speaks firmly, with utter confidence, and holds his chin high. He loves his mother, of course he does, up until now he would have done literally anything for her… but asking him to give up Keith? That’ll be the first time in his entire life that she’s asked too much. “It’s not her place.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course. I’ll find my way back to you. No matter what. You can count on that.”

“If you think this is what’s best for us, then we’ll do it. I know you would never steer me wrong or let me get hurt. You have our best interests at heart.” Keith nods slowly, visibly gaining confidence. “I trust you, my perfect mate. You lead and I’ll follow, no matter what.”

“Let’s go.” Lance says, grabbing Keith’s hand and leading him out of the trees. They aren’t far from Lance’s home at all, they’ve grown lazy and slack in their efforts to keep their relationship hidden. It isn’t like they don’t already suspect that Lance is seeing someone, what with the bitemarks that litter his neck after every visit into the woods. They’re not terribly discreet, or at least Keith isn’t. He doesn’t want to be either, he seems to enjoy staking a claim on Lance far too much to stop. 

So she must know that this is coming, or some variation of it. There’s no way she could really be prepared for who he’s bringing home now, but she’ll have to come to terms with it. He just hopes that she’ll give her approval, if not now then eventually. Lance has no intention of putting an end to things with Keith, and no one can change his mind about that, no matter who.

By the time they find themselves standing on his mother’s front porch, with Lance’s knock practically echoing through the air around them, Keith is a bit of a nervous wreck at his side despite Lance’s best efforts to reassure him. He’s just starting to wonder if maybe he’s made a mistake, if this was the right time after all, when the door opens up to them.

“Mama, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Lance speaks up proudly without an ounce of hesitation, not bothering to wait for her reaction. He gives Keith’s hand a gentle tug where he is gripping it, and pulls him just a little bit closer, until they’re leaning into each other’s sides for support. Keith seems like he might need it. “This is Keith. My  _ boyfriend _ .”

For a long moment, she simply stares, and that’s somehow more unnerving than her blatant and loud disapproval would be. It becomes worse when Lance’s abuelita appears behind his mother, peering over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. Lance shifts awkwardly in the spot, glancing over at Keith, then back to his mother with a helpless shrug.

“I love him, Mama.” Lance says, like that might change any opinions she’s already forming. She looks away from Keith finally, glancing at Keith with a barely-perceptible twitch of her lips. 

“I told you not to stray from the path.” She says then, but it’s not the lecture it’s always been, it’s resigned and amused like she’d already come to terms with all of this a long, long time ago. “How many times did I tell you that, Lance? How many?”

“Thousands.” He laughs, reaching up to run a hand through his sopping hair. “Can we come in?”

“Bring him in here. You’re both soaked to the bone, you’ll catch a cold standing out there in that weather no matter what you are. Don’t think I’m convinced either, I’m gonna give him hell like I would any suitor, he doesn’t get off any easier because he could probably eat me alive. He’d still better court you proper, like anyone else would, and  _ should _ . You hear me? I won’t have just anyone stealing my baby boy away from me, he’d better be good to you, I mean it. Ask your abuelita, she’ll agree with me.”

Lance’s abuelita smirks at him from behind his mother’s back, like she fully understands how unreasonable her daughter is about these things.

She spirals off into another tangent off the back of that one, but by then Lance is already seated at the table next to Keith, the both of them draped in dry blankets while they watch her bustle around the kitchen heating up soup for them. Keith looks more overwhelmed than he’s ever been, but considering the amount of chatter and shouting going on around him… he’s probably handling it about as well as could be expected. Even a human man would be overwhelmed stepping foot into this household.

Lance reaches under the table to grab his hand, prepared to hold on throughout this entire process.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you so very much for reading, as always, and I hoped you enjoyed it! This fic definitely was not meant to be this long, but I've always wanted to contribute my own little twist on the red riding hood trope to the pot. This was the perfect opportunity to, so thanks so much to Rory (@bbunlance) for all of her ideas and help along the way.
> 
> SO, just a quick note about the story: I didn't really find anywhere to fit this into the story so I left it as an implied thing more-so, but the reason Lance's abuelita isn't really freaked out by his choice of partner is because she's lived in the forest and known wolves over the years, she is very involved with all the magic shit that goes on behind the scenes in this fantasy universe but she keeps it a secret from everyone because she knows what a threat humans can be. Whereas Lance's MOTHER'S only experience with the wolves of the forest was when everything went down with Keith's parents, and even then she only heard the rehashed stories from the angry mob that killed them. So, she's just repeating all the mindsets that she's been taught by the villagers.
> 
> Anyway, just thought I would share that Tidbit. If you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave me a comment, I read and treasure every single one even if I'm generally too busy or too much of a mess to reply to them all. I really do appreciate them!
> 
> And if you're interested in keeping up with me with updates on future works, here are my social medias:  
> @melancholymango is my main twitter/tumblr  
> @redgaysonly is my fandom/nsfw twitter acc


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